The Bewitchin' Pool
by Lovie247
Summary: The war with Negan is Imminent. Rick and his group are tired and losing hope. A planning meeting in the middle of an oncoming storm changes everything. Unbelievable events occur. Can the survivors rise to meet the new challenge? I do not own The Walking Dead or The Twilight Zone, just a big fan of both - so why not combine them. Zombies/AU, Richonne fic. with Rosita, Maggie, Carol
1. Chapter 1 - Weary and Beaten

_There is a fifth dimension, beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space, and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man's fears and the summit of his knowledge..._

* * *

 **Chapter 1 - Weary and Beaten**

All out Civil War, localized in this small part of Virginia, was fully underway. The old world ended, but the evil that men do remained. Negan aimed to rule this new world in old world style. Like all tyrants from times past, the loss of life didn't matter – only compliant bootlicking would be tolerated. When Rick rose from his knees, no longer able to bow down, he knew the losses would be significant. He could only hope that the casualties for his group would not be too high, though current events did not bode well for his confidence.

It had been three weeks since the start of the war – since the fight in Alexandria. The battle had been difficult especially once Rick and his team realized that the junk yard group had made a deal with Negan. Jadis shot him without regard. He almost lost Michonne. They lost Sasha. It was a day that he would rather forget. There were many days he would like to forget. From the time he woke up in the hospital, life was nothing more than surviving one impediment just to be thrust into another. The setbacks were mushrooming.

"Dad—are you sure you don't want me to go with you guys?" Carl asked his father while shifting his little sister to his other arm.

"I'm sure Carl," Rick replied while leaning over to kiss his daughter. "You need to stay here and watch your sister. You need to stay here and remain vigilant."

Planning for the next battle had been arduous. Rick made sure that Alexandria was never left without some of its best fighters to defend it should Negan do a sneak attack. When he set up the meeting away from Alexandria, he left Tara, Aaron and Gabriel behind to protect their dwindling community.

"Gabriel can watch Judith…" Carl said while his father was saying his good-bye to the youngest Grimes, "…you might need me."

"I need you here—this is just a planning meeting, and we shouldn't all be out there—it's too dangerous." He said without compunction.

Rick shook his head at the thought that this is the world his children would grow up in - _if they do_ _grow up_. He swore to protect Carl; to protect Judith. But in the quiet recesses of his mind – the words reverberated loudly - _you can't protect them_. The proof was insurmountable. It was out of his hands. He talked a good game _but the game— the real game— was run by Negan._ Even with that truth, he would still fight until he could fight no longer.

"Okay dad." He said, returning his dads hug and kiss. This was not the time to argue with his father.

xxxxxx

Rick, Michonne, Carol, Rosita, Daryl, and Maggie were preparing to meet at an abandoned warehouse between the Hilltop and Alexandria. Carol would travel from the Kingdom, and Maggie from the Hilltop.

Ezekiel had not quite recovered from Richard's double-dealing, which led to the death of his young protégé Benjamin. He decided not to leave the Kingdom without leadership with the impending war. Morgan also remained at the Kingdom, continuing to impart his knowledge of Aikido, and train the residents in successful fighting techniques using a staff.

Jesus, much like Morgan, was working with the Hilltop residents on hand-to-hand combat and martial arts; neither he nor Maggie had any faith in Gregory's ability to keep anyone in the community safe – not even himself.

Maggie, still reeling from losing Sasha, decided to go to the meeting place alone. She didn't have much time these days to be alone with her thoughts…to be alone with her thoughts of him. Her _beloved_ husband…her friend. She would stay strong; help lead the Hilltop and it's alliances to victory. No time to sulk. No time to wallow in self pity and doubt. No time to truly recover.

But, the drive to the warehouse – alone – was her time. This would be her time to let out the tears. To scream to the heavens. To finally release her sorrow.

xxxxxx

Rick, Michonne, Rosita and Daryl road in silence. The abandoned warehouse was about thirty miles away from Alexandria. Rick was the driver- he looked over at _her_. Michonne was always his co-pilot - _literally and figuratively_ \- He drew strength from her -maybe too much. He could tell that she was worried. He could see the distress on her face.

The bruises that she'd sustained during her fight with the large – now deceased – woman from Jadis' group, were barely noticeable. He began to be more worried about the bruises manifesting in her spirit – the ones that weren't visible. _Those are the ones that don't heal nearly as fast as the ones that everyone can see._

Rick Reached over and touched her hand to get her attention, she looked over at him with very wary eyes. She looked like she had aged a few years over the last few weeks.

He couldn't forget her words when she was first released from the infirmary…

" _I trusted that woman. I convinced you to fight. We put all our eggs into the basket of a woman who's just as sick as a man we're fighting—I feel like I'm becoming consumed with hate Rick—I know that hate won't help as we move into this—but I feel that I'm consumed with it. I don't know if I have anything left…"_

"How are you feeling?" he asked with compassion in his eyes.

The double-cross of Jadis and her group had been a horrible blow to them all, but it seemed to have hurt her in a way that he was not prepared for. _She looks so worn out - almost defeated_. The enthusiasm that she usually had; the buoyancy that kept him going, seemed depleted...maybe even gone.

"I feel okay," she responded not looking directly into his eyes. "I'm just so tired, and I want this to be over," she responded quietly.

Rick looked at her. Her optimism was waning and the light that came through her - giving him strength - was growing dim.

"And how are you feeling—you were the one that got shot remember?" She gave him a slight smile.

Ignoring her casual attempt at levity, "Maybe you should've stayed back home with Carl and Judith."

"They'll be fine with Olivi—I mean Tara," she corrected - instant realization of everyone and everything that they'd lost - she turned her head and once again faced the window. A storm was approaching.

Except for the few wandering walkers on the road, it almost looked like an old world car ride along a country road; a leisurely drive with her boyfriend. It _almost_ could have been a regular carefree day. Except…it wasn't.

xxxxxx

"How did y'all find this place?" Daryl asked from the back seat as they approached the warehouse.

Rick glanced through the rearview mirror at his two friends. Daryl was sitting behind Michonne and he could see that look of wariness and defeat - the same one that Michonne had.

Rick had observed many looks on Daryl's face throughout their friendship – brotherhood – many times. The look on his face when Rick left Merle on the rooftop, just to go back and find that he was gone, was unadulterated anger. Compliance was the look he wore when the farm was overrun and Rick took his first official stand as leader. When Joe attacked them on the road and they later escaped terminus, he had the face of determination.

Aaron had said that Daryl could tell the difference between "a good guy and a bad guy." Daryl was a good guy…Rick knew he was…Glenn knew he was…but then…

Negan took him. Glenn and Abraham were killed. The look on his face, in his eyes, was different. Something was gone from him. He blamed himself for Glen and Abraham – even Denise. He was lost, more than when they first met. In spite of the surly disposition of the tracker, there was always an inherent kindness that existed within him. At the prison it came through like any light that finds its way through even the smallest crack. That kindness seemed to be gone now – replaced with what?

"Abe told me about it a couple of months ago—he came across it on a run." Rosita responded.

"Well, don't seem like there's a buncha' walkers. I guess it's as good a place as any," Daryl deadpanned.

xxxxxx

Rick pulled into a parking area behind the warehouse. The car would not be seen from the road. He noticed a blue Toyota Camry also parked. All four passengers looked over to the car and saw Carol sitting in the front seat. A casual observer would assume that she was lackadaisically inattentive. However, they all knew Carol well enough to know that she was not just on the lookout for all signs of possible danger; she was stealthily skilled and deadly.

Carol had been struggling with inner turmoil for a while. There was a time when she was determined to ensure the safety of her friends and de facto-family – no matter the cost. She did what she had to do to Karen and David at the prison; she had to protect everyone. She took care of Lizzy because she had to - Terminus - the Wolves. Somewhere along the way she'd lost who she was…who she used to be.

She evolved from meek and defenseless to a pragmatic murderer.

Then Morgan showed up. He was without a doubt her 'ideological nemesis.' He challenged the certainty of her recent actions. If he was right, then what did all of the choices she'd made mean about her. It makes perfect sense to strongly dislike – even hate – someone who had made the choice to do something that you weren't able or willing to do yourself; holding on to their conviction in the face of naysayers. It was easier to hold Morgan in contempt, than admit that he could be right.

Walking away from it all was – _her only choice_?

She sat in the car, waiting for her friends. There was no longer time to vacillate between what was right and what was wrong – what she could do and could not. This was a war that she couldn't sit by and just watch. The doubts – consternation – had finally been safely stored away.

She willingly walked back – _it was her only choice_.

Everyone exited the car and walked over to Carol. Daryl walked up to Carol and gave her a hug - followed by Michonne and then Rick.

xxxxxx

"How are you?" Daryl asked his friend; taking note of her appearance. She seemed in better spirits since the bloody clash in Alexandria. Daryl had been concerned that, taking her at her word, if she had to kill again – _there won't be anything of me_ _left_. But today she seemed OK.

"I'm good," she responded, "I can do this," she answered the question that he didn't ask.

Rosita stood back surveying the area. Just then another car approached and pulled into the nearly deserted lot. The group could see immediately that it was Maggie. She pulled her car next to the building then exited the vehicle. Michonne made haste to Maggie and grabbed her in an embrace. Neither woman allowed the tears that were stinging their eyes to fall. They let go of each other, sniffed, and smiled softly. Carol took Maggie into her arms.

The group of survivors began their walk towards the abandoned warehouse. Rosita was carrying the short wave radio that Eugene had repaired some weeks back.

"Have y'all notice the sky?" Maggie inquired glancing up at the darkening sky. I don't think I've ever seen that color in the sky before.

The group took note of the unusually beautiful color. There was purple and gray and just the right amount of moon light coming through the purple haze. With everything going on it was not unusual for them to not notice the sky. When death and destruction is all around, taking note of simple beauties that still existed was rare.

"Yeah, I was looking at that too," Rosita responded.

"Looks like a damn storm is on its way, we need to hurry and get this taken care of." Daryl concluded eyeballing the sky's odd hue.

The sound of the vehicles had alerted the nearby walkers. Five walkers ambled towards the group. Michonne and Rosita were the first to react.

"We got this," Rosita said, seeing that Michonne had already headed towards the unwelcome visitors.

The women looked at each other. Killing walkers had become so commonplace. It was a part of their existence. It was the part of their existence that they somewhat relied on - depended on for normality. It was an odd sense of relief. Killing walkers was something they could control. It didn't require much thought. It was something that was easy to do – yes it was the new normal.

The war with Negan was the antithesis of control or normality. It would not be easy. So for this moment in time, the normality of flicking the brain matter off her katana – from a man who was once a farmer, store clerk, father –he was something once upon a time- was comforting. It actually felt good because it lacked chaos. Over the last several weeks there was a steady stream of chaos. Very few things were in her control.

She couldn't even control who came in and out of her home. She slept on the floor because a psychopath with a vendetta took her mattress for the sole purpose of burning it. Her anger was something that she knew would get her killed but she had sunk so deep into it, right now it was keeping her warm.

xxxxxx

The approaching storm was almost identical to the mood of the group. No one spoke much as they entered the warehouse. They noticed that most of the windows had been boarded up. It was obvious that at some point someone, or some people, attempted to survive in the warehouse. They sat the short wave radio down on an old cracked wooden table that sat in the middle of the abandoned room.

"Let's check this place out before we get started," Rick instructed.

The group spread out looking for any signs of danger.

Rick walked over to Michonne. He came alongside her and ran his hand along her back. She turned to face him.

"I think you should've stayed home baby— you just seem so tired. Taking out those walkers right now is the first time I've seen you—like yourself—in a while." He cocked his head to the side as he took her hand and offered a little smile.

"I _am_ tired, but nobody gets to sit this out. This isn't the time to stay back and relax—there are too many things we have to do—too many things that can go wrong."

"I know but—"

"There's _no_ but Rick. We've lost too much— we have to end this." she snapped, moving away from his grasp.

"I'm sorry." He offered, rubbing her back gently.

"The place looks clear to me!" Daryl shouted from the other side of the warehouse.

xxxxxx

With Glenn, Abraham… and now Sasha gone, he had already lost not just three of their best fighters, but three of his most trusted confidantes - _how can we come back from this._ Rick looked at the faces of his friends. He did trust Gabriel, Jesus, Aaron and a few others, but his undying trust would always lie with the people in the room with him presently. These were his remaining family members. Even though they were not at their best, they were still the best fighters he knew, and he was proud to go into battle with them.

Truthfully, he didn't _really_ know any of the people that he now considered his family. Their past was a mystery that he never attempted to investigate. All that mattered was moving forward. No talk about family from the old world – because that no longer had value in this world. Old professions and credit ratings had no value today. The friends of yesteryear didn't matter. There wasn't much discussion about feelings or desires; the only thing that mattered was survival.

They spent the next fifteen minutes combing through every nook and cranny of the warehouse. Once they were sure that there were no walkers, or Saviors for that matter, Rick began to go over the plan to take down Negan, Jadis, and any other unknown alliances the psychotic leader had amassed.

"I had to scrap some of our initial plans—because most of it came from Eugene, and now that he is clearly not with us any longer, I think it's best to devise a new plan." Rick advised without looking into the faces of his team. Just hearing Eugene's name made an already somber mood that much worse. Everyone in the room had a mix of both sadness and anger.

"I can't believe that son-of-a-bitch," Rosita said looking at the group; "If I ever get close to him again—he's dead." she stated cryptically.

Of all the people currently in the warehouse, Rosita was visibly the angriest. Everyone in the room had lost friends and family, but Rosita's hurt was much deeper. She had not only lost those she cared about…she was betrayed by those she cared about.

"He was just scared Rosita," Carol said to the angry warrior, "everything he ever did was because he was scared. He roped you guys into taking care of him—because he was scared. He didn't know how to survive on his own—so he convinced you guys to take care of him. Now, Negan's given him some kind of authority, so he doesn't have to be as—scared." She said facing Rosita as the others grew silent.

"Are you trying to excuse what he did?" Rosita questioned, growing more agitated.

"No I'm not excusing it—I'm just saying that in this world, people do what they have to do to survive. He's weak, and we always knew he was weak." The gray haired woman said, utilizing the plastic smile she'd become accustomed to wearing.

"He just better keep his scared weak ass away from me— because I guarantee you the next time we meet, he won't be walking away," she said as she turned to walk towards the other side of the warehouse.

Rosita was still seething. She had opened herself up only to be rewarded with betrayal. First Abe leaves her. In the middle of hell on earth, he leaves her; barely a word of explanation and without regret – he dumps her. Their relationship seemed to mean nothing to him.

" _Just because we slept with the same dead guy doesn't mean we're friends_ …" She had said. But that wasn't true. Rosita did consider Sasha her friend. She spent a lot of time worrying about the curly haired survivor when the group first arrived in Alexandria. She went out of her way for her. She cared. She _really_ did care. Abe and Sasha together…their betrayal cut threw her like a rusty knife - leaving the disease of bitterness behind. Now she was ready to go.

She tried to end it, but that resulted in Olivia's death. Then there was Spencer's betrayal…

Spencer was never more than just a warm bed, but it still hurt that he would betray Rick and the other residents of Alexandria. She didn't cry much for Spencer - it only increased her anger.

The final betrayal – the one she couldn't get a handle on, was Eugene. They had sacrificed to keep him alive. Even after the truth was revealed, she still stuck by him. Abe had stuck by him. She thought he was a friend...even family. His betrayal hurt more than anyone's.

"We need to get this shit done Rick," Daryl chimed in, "before the storm hits."

"Daryl's right Rick," Maggie added while walking closer to the others, "what do you have planned?" Her eyes fell on their bearded leader.

"We lost a lot of guns to Jadis' people, and I don't know if we'll have time to recover more. So we're gonna have to use thangs other than guns – he paused and looked over at Rosita to give her time to rejoin the group currently huddled around the small worn table - "Jesus is very inventive, and slippery—I think he can help get us some more Intel so we can figure out the best way to get to Negan." Rick said.

The group stood around the table discussing the best way to infiltrate the Saviors and the junkyard group. The thunder shook them out of their current tête-à-tête.

xxxxxx

Rick looked at Rosita. Her anger was going to probably get her killed. She had become unhinged. He knew the signs better than anyone. After Lori died he didn't just become unhinged, he was severely mentally unstable. Coming back from that seemed nearly impossible. It _was_ impossible alone. Hershel was the beacon of wisdom that he needed. Carl was there looking to him for guidance. Everyone was looking to him for guidance. And then there was Judith.

No—he didn't make it back to this side of sanity without a lot of help. He had responsibilities. They were his life raft. He made his way back because he had to. But, he had no idea how to help Rosita. Who or what was her life raft?

She was working hard at what could only be considered a death wish. She wanted to kill Negan more than she wanted to live. Her actions got Olivia killed…Eugene taken. Then Eugene turned his back on them.

Rick figured that _that_ was probably when her desire to die became stronger than her desire to live. It was the final nail in a coffin that she had been crafting for quite a while. It was just a matter of time. Rick really didn't know Rosita. He wasn't sure how to appeal to the part of her that still cared about something. He knew his other family members better – somewhat – but he wasn't sure how to help them either; how to feed their increasingly barren souls. He could j _ust continue talk a good game._

xxxxxx

The booming thunder nearly shook the room. The group, who had come up against psychotics, cannibals, and all the evil that exists in human nature, including The Walking Dead, was visibly shaken by the vociferous storm.

"Sounds like it's gonna be bad," Carol said.

"Yeah," they all agreed, "we probably better get going." Maggie chimed in.

"I'm not sure if it's gonna be safe to drive back," Michonne interjected glancing up at the windows.

While the group took in Michonne's words, the thunder grumbled again. The lightning struck – closer.

Rick walked over to Michonne and placed his hands on her arm.

"You okay baby?" he asked noticing the look on her face.

"I'm okay," she answered, "it just feels weird."

"Yeah, I was thinking the same thang," Rick agreed.

More thunder shook and almost instantaneously the lightning - this time brighter and closer - struck.

Maggie looked over to Rick then to Daryl, "What do you think we need to do," she asked to neither man in particular.

"I think we need to stay here until this electrical storm passes," Daryl answered looking frustrated and tired.

Loud static came out of the radio causing everyone to jump; they all looked over at the radio. The ridiculousness of being startled by static, after all their morbid adventures over the past few years, was not lost on any of the survivors. For the first time in weeks, they all laughed.

"That was some weird shit," Rosita said laughing but not quite as gregariously as her comrades.

The storm rumbled louder and the lightning struck instantaneously. Both static and broken voices came from the radio.

The group was looking up at the windows that lined the upper walls of the warehouse. They were able to see the sky and the darkness suddenly shrouding the building.

"This storm is weird." Rosita stated.

"What's so weird about it?" Daryl asked.

"Because sound travels slower than light—so usually you see the lightning then you hear the thunder. But we keep hearing the thunder then seeing the lightning—almost like the two aren't connected—plus there's no rain."

"You're right—it's weird," Carol interjected.

"Well all I know is we need to stay in here until whenever the hell this is passes." Rick said.

Michonne moved closer to Rick. They looked at each other and interlaced their fingers.

"Let's hunker down over there," Rick stated, pointing to an empty area of the room, "there's no windows over there—so it's probably safer."

The room lit up again with translucent blue and yellow light. It was more than five seconds before the light dissipated.

"What the hell!" Daryl exclaimed.

There wasn't much time to react to the thunder, lightning or oddity of the storm before the room lit up again – within the light, the group witnessed a swirling body materialize through the walls of the room. Amid their confusion, thunder roared. They were frozen with their eyes transfixed on the beautiful blue light currently moving in their direction – the room became engulfed in a whirlpool of fluorescence.

Static permeated the room….

After sixty seconds, the light dissipated. The room was once again dank, dark and stuffy. The short-wave radio remained on the old cracked wooden table.

The survivors were gone….

xxxxxx

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 **A/N** \- This was an idea I had that I couldn't shake. It's very different from _The Mockingbird Conversation._ I'm excited to share my crazy thoughts. The updates will be regular for both stories. Please let me know what you think so far. Thank you.


	2. Chapter 2 - Awakenings

**Chapter 2 – Awakenings**

 _ **7:00 A.M. EDT**_

Sophia Peletier was ten years old when she died. She was ten years old when she walked out of the barn with no heartbeat. She was ten years old the last time Carol had any thoughts or visions of what she may grow up to become. At ten years old she became a _thing_ – she was no longer human. But - here she was - standing in front of her shocked mother, smiling.

She had beautiful auburn hair that was now past her shoulders. The freckles around her nose were reminiscent of every little girl who played on every sitcom in the 1970's – and she had the most beautiful green eyes Carol had ever seen. She looked only a few years older, but she was so grown up and so beautiful.

"Mom, what's wrong?" the preteen inquired as she bounced towards the kitchen. "What's the weird look on your face?" She asked. Carol was unable to move.

"Mom, really, what's wrong...are you crying?" Sophia noticed - becoming concerned by her mom's unusually odd behavior. Carol still couldn't speak - _This must be a dream -this can't be real. Either this is a dream or I'm dead. We must've died in that warehouse._

Her belief – if you could call it that – was that there was no more Heaven, only Hell. This didn't seem like either.

"I'm okay—just having—one of those mornings—I guess," Carol managed to stutter out, staring intently at her living child – the same one that died nearly three years ago after the world ended.

"Did you get into an argument with dad or something?" The young girl speculated.

"umm...No...Its fine," she responded as she glanced around the room that she hadn't been in for - she wasn't quite sure.

"If you say so mom," Sophia said as she walked over and kissed her mother on the cheek.

Carol couldn't move as the young girl's lips touched her cheeks. If her daughter had looked into her mother's face right then, she would've seen palpable shock causing the immergence of a face as white as a piece of copy paper.

"Well," she said turning her back and walking over to the end table to pick up her backpack, "Mrs. Jay is doing the carpool today - remember - so, if you're sure everything's okay, I'm gonna wait for her out front—you know how she gets when she has to wait," she said as she bent down and laced up her shoes.

"I'm okay—go on and wait for her out front," Carol said, deciding to play along with whatever the hell was going on.

Sophia walked back to the kitchen and grabbed an apple, then leaned over to kiss her mother before she walked out the door.

xxx

Carol spent the next several minutes walking through the house that she knew was hers, _but wasn't hers_. She was beginning to remember everything from the last three years - but only from a peripheral view. The house was sparsely decorated with family portraits on the wall. She walked over and looked at each photograph. Most of the pictures were of Sophia at different stages of her development - from infancy to her current age, which Carol now knew was thirteen.

The memories were coming in slowly - like a determined turtle intent on its destination.

There were also pictures of Carol along with Ed and Sophia. By the looks of things in the house, and her newly immerging memories, she knew that she and Ed were still married but, currently he was staying at his brother's house.

 _She couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched. It was such an - odd feeling._

She walked back into her bedroom, which she thought looked quite bland. The house did not compare to her house in Alexandria. She realized that the house she'd taken ownership of near the kingdom was much more similar to the house she was currently standing in.

She aimlessly wandered through the house slowly taking in everything. She stopped at the bathroom door and walked in. She turned and looked in the mirror and was awestruck. The woman looking back at her looked the same as she did before the world ended.

Carol noticed in her mid-twenties, not long after marrying Ed, that she was prematurely gray. She began dying her hair - thank you to Miss Clairol - in her late twenties. She never realized how the gray aged her. _When you're trying to survive—fighting off the walking dead—along with all of the horrors of a Post Apocalyptic world, hair color kinda takes a major backseat._ She shook her head while gazing at the Carol she barely recognized.

The memory of going to the beauty shop just a few weeks prior hit her suddenly. This person looking back at her appeared so much younger. It wasn't just the lack of gray hair. The permanent lines that had become a fixture on her face weren't there. She also noticed that she was heavier than the Carol she was used to. It obviously makes a big difference when you can just walk out the door and grab some fast food – not fighting or killing for every mouthful of food. But her eyes, though brighter, were also somewhat – vacant.

"What is going on," she quietly questioned the empty room, "this can't be real - but it doesn't feel like a dream." she continued. "What the hell is going on?" she questioned again.

Carol had a continual clash of thoughts and memories. It was like a duel being fought in her head. The memories were so contradictory that she had to take a seat on the edge of the tub. She was remembering things, but she was a visitor to her own memories.

She went back to her bedroom and sat on the bed as memories flooded her mind. She grabbed her head and laid down on the bed...

 _It's August 10, 2013 - Barack Obama is president - Sophia is in the eighth grade – I drive a 2011 Dodge Caravan that I financed by myself; for the first time - Ed lives with his brother because he has a girlfriend- I work part time at a domestic violence shelter – Sophia and I went to the movies last week to see Frozen, then snuck into The Hunger Games: Catching Fire - there was never an outbreak – the world never ended-_

 _"Oh My_ God!" She muttered holding her head, "this isn't a dream – but what is this?"

A certain rush of memories hit her again. She was remembering everything that happened for the last three years in this world; all of the trips to the doctor, the visits to the zoo, the annoyance in traffic, the airplane trip that she and Sophia took to Lake Tahoe. She was remembering everything. Not just the generalities of the world, but the specifics of her own life. But the memories were weird.

She spent the next hour in a walking daze. She turned on the TV to see what was going on in the world. It was weird being back in Georgia in her home town of Hapeville – but also not weird because she never left. Her memories of the world ending were much clearer than the ones that she now had of this world – dual citizenship in two different worlds.

 _Negan_ …"Rick—Daryl—Maggie—damn," she blurted out to the television screen. Her mind quickly went to the impending war. _What about everybody else? What happened to everyone? If I'm not dead and this isn't some kinda weird ass dream, then maybe they're in the same situation that I'm in. I've gotta find them. But where do I even start to look?_

Carol walked over to the kitchen counter and picked up her house phone. She took a moment to marvel at the fact that she could use a phone again – not just a cell phone, but a land line phone. She pushed the numbers and listened for steady tone.

"Hey Joan, It's Carol."

"Good Morning Carol," the less than enthusiastic supervisor replied.

"I'm not really feeling well today—I think I'm gonna just stay home with a good book and a cup of tea."

"Oh—okay," Joan began, "do you need anything?"

"Thanks Joan—no—rest is probably all I need. I'll hopefully see you tomorrow." Carol said. She knew that Joan was very dedicated to helping women escape domestic violence – she had a heart of gold - but she didn't have much of a bedside manner.

"Okay—talk with you later," the solemn woman exclaimed before ending the call.

 _Wow, she's like the female version on Daryl_ – she laughed at the thought of her friend. She sat down in the closest kitchen chair and put her hands over her face. Her heart was pounding uncontrollably and she was having trouble breathing. She reached over and grabbed one of Sophia's discarded lunch bags from the table and began to breathe into it – _a panic attack…I'm having a panic attack_ …the merging of her two parallel memories was apparently too much. Maybe the two thoughts can't co-exist.

She remained in the chair attempting to calm her overactive brain. None of her post-apocalyptic friends existed in her life. She'd never come across any of them in her daily life. _How would I even begin to find them?_ _If this is only my dream, or nightmare, then they won't even know me_.

A chill came over her – again – that feeling of being watched.

 _Social Media…you can find anybody on social media…_ She put the paper bag down and walked to her desk. After Ed moved out she claimed his desk area as her own – replete with fresh flowers daily and a small calendar with daily positive affirmations.

Sophia often made fun of her unwillingness to move from her old desktop computer to a more updated laptop – but she took the playful jibes from her teenage daughter in stride. It was their ongoing mother daughter joke about how old school Carol is.

 _What do I know about all of them? Wow, all the time we've spent together—I'm not even sure what Michonne's last name is. I don't know where Daryl lived before the world ended. Michonne is a unique name…I can probably find her with the first name. Maggie Greene…what city was the farm in? I know Rick was a sheriff's deputy…where was that? Rosita Espinosa…that name is probably too common for me to locate her…where did she say they came from? Was it Texas?_

She turned on the computer as her mind went through several different scenarios. She clicked on the internet icon to begin her search for people that she wasn't sure really existed – at least not in this world.

xxxxxx

 **7:00 A.M. EDT**

He blinked several times to adjust his vision. Was he seeing what he thought he was seeing? He sat down on the previously owned brown Naugahyde vinyl couch. He looked around the auto repair shop. This was the office adjacent to the garage and was currently doubling as his living quarters.

 _Dixon Auto Repair Shop_ was located just over the railroad tracks in an industrial area, in the back of _Diego's Paint Shop_ and _Tunie's Smog Check Station_ on a dead end street, in Decatur, Georgia.

He sat – looking around – as his memories converged.

The Dixon brothers bought the repair shop from an old family acquaintance about two years ago. Around the same time that they were handing over cash to the smarmy acquaintance; to have their own business – Daryl was driving a blade through the head of the newly reanimated Merle Dixon. The two memories hit Daryl – he lowered his head.

"What the fuck…" he mumbled to himself. The room had a medium sized desk with paperwork scattered on it. There was a stack of work orders and invoices set apart from the randomness of the desk. There was a chair facing the desk, and two other chairs sitting back from the desk – for customers. There were generic pictures on the wall, most of which predated the Dixon brothers owning the shop. A few magazines were sitting on the coffee table across from the couch where Daryl sat gathering his thoughts.

"What are doin' sittin' there little brother—you shouldn't've told that pretty lil thing that you was gonna have her car done by 7:30 if you was just gon' be sittin' around scratchin' your balls," Merle scolded as he walked into the office - Daryl couldn't speak.

"You sick or somethin'?" Merle inquired, "looks like you seen a ghost." He said taking in the strange expression on the younger Dixons' face.

"Nah—I'm good," the weary and confused man managed to say.

"Well you look like shit—get some coffee or somethin'," he sourly recommended before turning to leave the room, "I'll finish up the Corolla—but hurry and get your ass out there." He said before leaving the room.

Having a black president only seemed to fuel the simmering bigotry that always been a part of Merle's psyche. He now belonged to not only _The Knights of the Confederacy_ , but also to _The Brotherhood of the South_ – another white exclusionary group. Daryl kept his distance from his brother when he began his angry racial separatist rant or his Obama diatribe – which was usually inflamed by alcohol. The younger Dixon was a true loner in this world. Merle was once his friend, as well as his brother; but lately they were mere business partners.

He began to stand when he was hit with another onslaught of memories. He lowered his head and allowed the thoughts to have their way with him. _Focus…_

 _What the fuck. Is this real? Where is everyone else?_

"C'mon man—get your ass in here and help me with this shit." Merle demanded from the doorway.

Daryl and Merle completed the tune up on the car while their pretty red-haired customer waited. It was close to 8:00 when they finished the job.

"Thanks for waiting." Merle said flirtatiously to the woman as she pulled a credit card from her wallet.

"It's no problem," she said, smiling in the direction of a very distant and distracted Daryl. Each time she'd brought her car to the shop she attempted to send every signal to the dark hair gruffly handsome man – but he never seemed to pick up on the hints she was dropping. Today was even worse.

"You guys do such good work—at a reasonable price—so I don't mind the wait," she continued. Daryl walked back into the office without a word.

Merle completed the transaction with the dejected woman, then went to the office.

"I don't know what your problem is little brother," he said, having barely entered the room, "the woman was practically throwing her panties at you." He finished with an inquiring smirk.

Daryl didn't answer – he was only barely listening. His mind was still reconciling conflicting memories.

"I'm beginning to wonder about you," Merle said, sitting in one of the customer chairs, facing his brother, "when's the last time you even got laid?"

Daryl was no stranger to his brother's insinuations or snarky comments. His usual comment was simply 'fuck you.' But today was different. Today he was a man with two sets of memories. He had survived walkers. He had survived cannibals. He had survived murderers and rapists. He had survived an attempt to take his spirt – his soul. He had survived unequaled tyranny. He was not the man - and this was not the time - to deal with his older brothers shit.

"Fuck off Merle," he snapped, "just cuz I don't wanna sleep with every girl that throws her panties at me don't make me some kinda' queer—so fuck off." He got up and headed to the door. "I got some shit ta' do, I'll be back later." He said not waiting for a response.

He got into the Pontiac Trans Am that he'd bought from an auction six months ago. Saying that he had shit to do had been an overstatement; his current plans were only to get away from his overbearing brother. As he left the nearly deserted street and headed to the more populated area of downtown Decatur, he felt the oncoming flood. He pulled the car over and placed it in park.

 _What the fuck. What's real? If that was real, and this is real, then Rick, Carol and everybody else must be here too. Maybe this is Hell. Being with Merle may as well be Hell. That dudes a fuckin' idiot. Guess he's always been an idiot. From one Hell to another._

He laughed. The flood had come to a stop and he was able to think a little more clearly. There was an unshakably eerie feeling of being watched. _What is this?_

"I've gotta figure out if the others are here," he said to his empty car. He merged back into traffic. It felt both normal and weird – at the same time – to be driving with so many cars on the road. It was like feeling both happy and sad at the exact same moment. The two should not simultaneously co-exist. _This shit don't make no sense._

He put the windows down as he drove. The air smelled so sweet. He could smell gas, car fumes and the slight smell of breakfast being cooked somewhere; the one thing he didn't smell was the overwhelming stench of death. The smell of rotting corpses had become such a part of his daily life that it almost felt - strange - not to smell it.

He turned on the radio – _Stairway to Heaven_ blared through the speakers. He jumped, and then began laughing at himself. "This is a hell of a lot better than that Hillbilly shit Rick listens to," he again spoke to no one in particular. The laugh quickly ended at the thought of his friend – his brother - that never tried to belittle or disrespect him. "I'll figure this shit out…have to."

His phone began to ring just as he got on the highway. For a moment he'd almost forgotten what a ringing phone sounded like. He looked over to the passenger seat and grabbed the phone. Merle's name was displayed.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey little brother—you must've forgot that you had nine o'clock tranny scheduled;" Merle sniped sarcastically.

"Yeah, I'll be back in a minute," he said."

"OK, well hurry up cuz they already here."

Daryl got off the highway and re-entered it, going in the direction he just left.

By the time he arrived back at the auto shop he was determined to locate the others – his post-apocalyptic friends- _his_ _family_. _But how?_

Daryl was never much for the Internet or social media but figured that the Internet was his best bet to figure this out. He walked into the shop and greeted his customers.

"We should have this done for you by the end of the day," he told the young couple as they stood patiently awaiting his arrival.

"Okay, thank you. We'll see you later—are you going to call and let us know when it's ready?" The young man inquired.

"Yeah I'll give you a call."

Working on the car was somewhat cathartic. The only thing that the Dixon brothers ever had in common was their love for- and ability to fix - cars. Their father, Merle Dixon Sr. didn't have much patience for school of books; the only thing that he ever took the time to teach his sons was how to fix a car. He spoke to his kids with his fist and/or a belt – except when they worked on cars.

Daryl was drifting between worlds in his mind as he worked on the car when Merle shouted from the office…

"You got a call little brother."

xxxxxx

 **7:30 A.M. EDT**

Maggie was standing in her bathroom, leaning over the sink weeping. They were tears of both happiness and unbearable sadness. The shock and exuberant joy that she had when she walked into the dining room and saw her father and step-mother sitting at the table enjoying a leisurely breakfast. Her father; who had both legs, short thinning white hair, and the same deep laugh that always made her feel safe. The same father whose murder she'd witnessed. The farm was still there – thriving. Beth was away at school. The world was intact. There were no walkers. There was no Negan. But…

There was no baby. There had never been a Glenn in her life – this life – where the world never ended. A deluge of thoughts and memories invaded her mind. She didn't have a boyfriend or husband, but was currently dating someone. She lived with her parents and worked on a part-time basis at the local elementary school as a substitute teacher. Her life here was – okay – but there was No baby and there had not been a Glenn.

She'd gone through every scenario from having been drugged in the warehouse to some elaborate hoax. Nothing made sense. She felt like she was being watched – _maybe this is some kind of experiment_. So, currently, she stood in the bathroom, leaning over the sink, sobbing.

"Maggie—are you okay in there honey?" Hershel Greene inquired.

She turned the faucet on and splashed water on her face. "I'm okay dad—I just have a bad headache. I'll be out in a minute."

"Do you want me to get you something sweet heart?" He asked.

"Uh—No—I'm fine—really," she said while patting her face with a towel, "I think I'll just lie down for a little while."

"Let me know if you change your mind," he said as he walked back down the hall to join his wife at the table.

The melancholy woman looked at herself in the vanity mirror. Her hair was much longer than she had ever worn it, and her face was bright – even with the red puffiness around her eyes from crying. She looked so young.

 _If this is real, it doesn't make sense to be sad that the world didn't end. All of my family is alive. There's no mad man trying to kill me. And a mad man didn't kill my father. A crazy bitch didn't kill my sister. The world is the way it should be. But Glenn…our baby…can this be real? I'm actually in a safe world where I can raise my baby…and there's no baby…_

She walked back to her bedroom, snuggled deep into her mattress and sobbed until she fell asleep.

xxxxxx

 **4:00 A.M. PDT**

There was a going away party for one of her friends near Camp Pendleton, California – a few cities away from San Diego. She was staying at a hotel in Chula Vista. It was beautiful – overlooking a very clean and tranquil beach. He had a weekend pass so she and a group of friends drove from Los Angeles to help him celebrate his short Cinderella Liberty pass.

Rosita rolled over in the bed – the tsunami of memories invaded her mind. She laid in bed while she recalled everything that had happened in _this_ life over the last few years. She listened to her two friends, currently sharing the hotel room with her, snore lightly. The room was dark, but light from the moon shone in the room. It was four o'clock. Between the hangover she had from the previous night's celebration, and the profusion of unbelievable events crowding in her brain at one time, she decided not to move.

 _This must be some kind of dream. We were in the warehouse. What happened? There was a storm. There was some kinda light – no, it was more than a light. What the hell was that? Maybe we got drugged. Maybe we're dead. The way my head feels, if we did die, this is definitely hell._

"The world never ended here." She whispered into the darkness. "This can't be real."

"What are you mumbling over there, chica?" Her friend Celia asked from the other bed in the room.

"Nothing—just have a horrible hangover."

"Next time stop trying to show everybody how you can drink them under the table, estupido," Celia laughed. _"_

"I proved my point though," she deadpanned before rolling to her side while more memories made themselves welcome in her brain.

The thoughts washing over her were like long lost friends. She felt a certain sense of contentment. She had been so angry for so long that it was an aberrant feeling. The anger was gone. She was still mad. Mad as hell at many unfixable travesties that exist in the world – but the anger that had kept her warm and fed for so long, was gone. It was weird. No, not just weird, _unbelievably strange._

 _Where did everyone else go? I need to try and find out if they are here – wherever here is._

While the memories of her life came back to her, she began falling to sleep. _Maybe when I wake up I'll be on the floor of that warehouse with a fucking walker staring down at me._ That was her final conscious thought before she fell back to sleep.

She woke up about four hours later – it was 8:00. She stumbled out of the bed, nearly tripping over the discarded clothes and shoes strewn across the floor. Her friends were still sleep. Once in the bathroom she looked in the mirror.

 _Wow…I look the way I looked before._ _That scar that Negan's goon left on my face is gone. My eyebrows are arched…just like I always use to do. No…like I still do._

"Damn this is so fucking confusing," she told her mirrored reflection before grabbing her toothbrush.

 _What the hell is that—I'm being watched._ She rinsed her mouth and walked out of the bathroom and went to the nightstand where her cell phone was placed.

"Damn—a phone," she laughed to herself at the insanity of it all, "I'm probably crazy—this is probably some kind of mental breakdown." She told the phone in her hand. While laying in bed it occurred to her that if this was real, then maybe the others were here. She knew everyone's last name – except Michonne. _Nowadays almost everybody can be found on the internet._

She walked over to the small courtesy coffee pot in the room and prepared a cup of coffee. She slipped into a t-shirt and sweat pants while her personal cup of coffee brewed. The not-quite-as-weary-warrior sat down with her coffee and swiped her phone. She accessed the search engine and typed in Rick Grimes – Carol Peletier – Maggie Greene – Daryl Dixon.

xxxxxx

Lori Grimes stood at the stove – her back was to him while she turned the bacon. He was dressed in his sheriff's deputy uniform. He apparently showed up while she was in the middle of recounting what happened in the PTA meeting yesterday. Dazed and incredibly confused, he looked around the kitchen. He couldn't truly make out her words because his brain was currently being bombarded with emerging images. He had a sudden head rush. He grabbed his head. She continued to speak while removing the bacon from the pan. He couldn't speak. _What the fuck is going on?_

"Rick—did you hear what I said?" she questioned while still facing the stove, "Are you listening?"

"Yeah—just have a headache." He truthfully told the woman who he knew to be long dead.

"Oh," she said, turning to face her husband, "you were fine a minute ago—you do look white as a sheet though," she reached over and touched his forehead. He cringed and jumped.

"What's wrong?" she asked – startled by his look of terror.

"Nothin'—just a bad headache," he lied. She was staring at him, confused by his sudden illness. He was sure that the look he was giving her was akin to a 'what the fuck' look.

"Okay…I'll go and get you some aspirin." She said, turning to shut off the fire on the stove and put bacon and eggs on a plate for her husband. She left the kitchen.

"What the hell is going on?" He questioned the empty kitchen. Before he could think any further, he heard a familiar voice.

"Mom, where'd you put my backpack—I left it on the floor in the living room," Carl shouted from another room in the house.

"I sat it on a chair in the kitchen because it's not supposed to be on the floor in the living room," Lori shouted from another room in the house.

Rick was frozen. _This can't be real._

"Thanks mom," Carl responded. His voice was coming closer to Rick.

"Good morning dad," the young man greeted his father.

Rick couldn't speak. He stared at his son as he walked to the table and grabbed his bag out of the chair and sat down.

"What's wrong dad—you look weird."

"Head—headache," Rick stammered out.

"Oh—want me to get you something?" His son asked while reaching over and taking a slice of bacon from his dad's plate.

"No—um—your mom's getting me some aspirin." He said.

Carl got up to make his plate. Rick could not take his eyes off of his son. He was beautiful. His brown hair was cut short. Both of his eyes sparkled. He had perfect skin, except for a few pimples. He was the same boy – _but not_.

"Don't grab all the bacon young man," Lori admonished as she returned to the kitchen. She opened the refrigerator and took out the orange juice.

"I wasn't going to—but I don't know why you didn't make more—you know I love it." He responded to his mother while she grabbed a glass and began pouring orange juice.

"Because bacon cost too much money for me to cook a whole pack for you every day," she said while removing three slices from his plate.

"That's cold mom," he snarked at his mother. Rick watched the exchange between his wife and son. _What the hell is this?_

Lori looked the way she did before the world ended. Her dark hair was long and shiny. She was wearing a short pink robe. She was thin, but he could see the outline of her breasts through the material. She was lovely, just like he'd remembered. A sudden pang of guilt hit him… _Michonne._

Lori walked over to him and handed him a glass of orange juice and a bottle of aspirin. She lightly touched his face – he didn't flinch this time.

"Hey dad—you ready for my joke of the day?" Carl inquired. _That's right, every morning he tells me and his mother a new joke._

"Of course," Rick responded while opening the bottle of aspirin.

"Okay—this is a good one," he snickered.

"You say the same thing every day Carl," his mother reminded.

"Well, this one's really good," he promised, "you ready?"

"Yes son—hurry up before you miss the bus," she said.

He began laughing at his own joke before he shared it, "What do you call somebody who crosses the ocean two times and doesn't take a bath either way?" He asked staring back and forth between his parents.

"You guys give up?"

"Yep," she said.

"What about you dad?" he asked.

"I give up too, son," Rick said, playing along with whatever was going on.

"A dirty double crosser," Carl said mid laugh.

"That was funny Carl," Lori said with a giggle.

Rick was struck again with a stream of flashbacks, thoughts, reflections – he grabbed his head with both hands.

"Dad—are you okay," Carl said as he picked up his backpack. Lori turned to face her husband.

"Rick—maybe you should stay home today. You really don't look well." Lori said.

"I'll be okay—just let me go and splash some water on my face," he said getting up from the table and walking towards the restroom.

He closed the door. The man staring back at him in the mirror had no gray on his face or in his hair. This man was clean shaven with hair cut short. _Michonne loves my hair long enough to run her hands through it…especially when we make love._ He smiled at the thought of her – his girlfriend—while his _alive_ _dead_ wife waits for him in the other room.

"This has to be some kind of dream," he informed his reflection. _But it's not. I can remember everything that happened in both places over the last – nearly three years. Lori and I went to marriage counseling – we started trying to have another baby last year – Carl goes to King middle school – he's on the basketball team – Shane, damn, Shane got engaged a few months back – I'm up for a promotion to Section Chief._ He bent over the sink as the memories continued to flow.

 _I'm being watched…I'm definitely being watched. Maybe I'm losing it again—just like I did when she died. But—she's not dead._

"Rick—are you okay?" She inquired, "you've been in there a while."

"Yeah—I'm coming out." Rick said opening the door.

She walked up to him and touched his forehead again.

"You don't feel warm—but you're so pale," she informed him, "I think maybe you should stay home today."

"I'll be fine. If I start feeling worse I'll come home," he promised as he walked back to the kitchen.

He picked up his phone and wallet. He mussed his son's hair, and then turned to walk out the back door.

"Don't I get a kiss?" She questioned, coming up behind him with a worried smile.

"Oh—yeah sorry," he said turning around. She reached up and gave him a chaste kiss on the lips. He stood, momentarily frozen. She stepped back and touched his face.

"Have a good day, and make sure you come home if you start feeling worse."

"I will," he said opening the door.

The sheriff's deputy in this life and leader of the resistance in the other - drove the same route to work that he'd been driving for nearly thirteen years. He felt as if he was somehow split in two; remembering two completely separate events as they happened to him simultaneously. _I have to find her and the rest of them._ He pulled into his assigned parking spot at the station - barely cognizant of driving there. Some things become so rote, he assumed, that we do them without thinking. He was certainly not thinking clearly.

 _None of this can be real. Damn, what is her last name. I can't believe that I never asked. How do fall in love with someone, make a life with them, survive with them…and never find out what their last name is. Michonne can't be a common name._

He picked up his phone, put in his pass code, and then tapped the internet app. He typed in her name. _I'm not even sure if that's how you spell Michonne._ It took mere seconds to see that the search brought back zero results. He tried continual times, spelling her name every way he could think of. Still no results. "I have to find her," he whispered to himself.

Walking into the sheriff's station was surreal. This had been his second home for several years. He walked slowly towards his temporary office. He was the interim Section Chief – during the selection process. It was pretty much a given that he would be offered the position. His colleagues greeted him as he passed their work stations. Many he'd known for several years and others he'd met in the last few years - after the world ended – but he knew them all.

"Good morning Chief," Lindsey, his secretary, greeted.

"Good morning Lindsey—how are you today?" He asked.

"I'm good—thanks. Um, you have a call. She's been holding—I told her I could have you call her back, but she said she'd hold all day if she had to. And she wouldn't give me her name." Lindsey said with an air of annoyance.

"Okay. I'll pick up the line—give me a second," he said walking into his temporary office and closing the door.

"Hello—this is Interim Chief Grimes—how may I help you?"

"Rick…" she said as a question, "this is Carol."

 _Swoosh….another flood, only this was a different memory rush. His breath hitched. Carol…he knew her voice. His friend that he exiled for murdering two people; his friend that saved them all – more than once; his friend that he went looking for when she walked away from them all. She was not just his friend, she was his family._

xxxxxx

"Who is it?" Daryl shouted over to his brother.

"She didn't say—but she sounds hot," Merle smirked as he walked closer to the younger man.

Daryl peered at him and grabbed a rag to wipe away the grease from his hands. He figured that this was as good a time to stop as any other. He needed to find a private area to do his search. Once he entered the office he closed the door behind him. Merle was not the type who would understand any of this – neither was he for that matter – but Merle was something else altogether. _It's probably some customer—soon as I hang up I'll start tryin' to find them._ He lifted the receiver and pushed the blinking line…

"Hello—how can I help you?"

"uh—hello. Is this Daryl Dixon?" the woman on the line asked.

"Yeah, this is Daryl Dixon—how can I help you?"

"My name is Rosita Espinosa—um—do you kno—"

"Fuck…" he interrupted in a loud whisper, "Rosita…"

"Oh My God— Daryl…" for the first time since witnessing Abe and Glenn meet Negan's Lucille in the clearing…by the road…in the middle of the night…

…She began to cry.

* * *

A/N - Thank you for reading. Let me know what you think.


	3. Chapter 3 - Her Awakening

**Author's Note:** Thank you so much for reading and taking this journey with me. Enjoy...

* * *

 **Chapter 3 – Her Awakening**

 **7:00 A.M. EDT**

"Michonne..." _that voice_..."oooh baby...damn," he moaned. She was slowly becoming aware - feeling good. The feeling was...different but _damn_ , _so_ good. _Oh…what's going on...Damn…he's so deep – so deep inside_. _Rick always loves morning sex._ With both Carl and Judith sleeping it was really the best time. Their alone time. The man was definitely a morning person. Sometimes she was barely awake and he would begin. It was the most glorious way to wake up. _This feels different_.

She opened her eyes and an immediate rush of memories and thoughts flooded her brain. She turned her head to look at the man who was currently on top of her – grinding on top of her. _He's not Rick_.

Without much thought she harshly pushed him off of her...

"AAAH!" She screamed.

"What the hell Michonne…what's wrong!" He fell out of her – then off of her - and landed backwards. She jumped off the bed as her eyes slowly focused on the man in front of her. There he was – it was him – he stood in front of her looking confused, worried and annoyed.

"Mike…" she whispered in both surprise and bewilderment.

"Mike…Oh my God!" the astonishment not diminishing, "Mike," she repeated, just as confused.

Mike got off the bed and walked around to her side of the bed.

"'Mish—what's wrong baby?" His tone less angry - more concern etched on his face.

She looked at the man who she saw die three years ago standing in front of her. He was standing there -naked with an unforgiving erection. He was looking at her – loving concern. His body was almost like she'd remembered – a little more muscular.

She grabbed her head as the worst head rush she'd ever had in her life came over her. She sat back on the bed and laid her head on the pillow. This wasn't a headache, it was something else. She began to shake her head. She put both of her hands up to her head – wrapping them around. Mike reached out to touch her shoulder - she flinched and scooted away.

"Michonne…what's wrong?" He inquired a third time.

"What's going on?" She said in a panic, "Where are we—what's going on." The memories were beginning to find their way into her brain, but the panic was nearly overwriting any sense of calm.

"What do you mean what's going on—we woke up this morning and began having sex, like lots of mornings—I thought you were okay with it—if not why didn't you just say so?" he asked with complete befuddlement and a tinge of anger.

"I have a really bad headache," she responded, feeling uncomfortable as he stood naked in front of her, "my head is killing me."

"Okay, I'll go and grab the Tylenol, why don't you just lie there and relax," he suggested as he left their bedroom to get her the needed medication.

Michonne scooted further into the bed and pulled the sheet over her naked body. More thoughts pervaded – the recall was nearly staggering. She rolled over on her side while what could only be described as a monsoon of memories flooded her consciousness.

 _Mike – Andre – mom – Auntie Lee – everybody…_

She reached over to his side of the bed and found her discarded oversized T-shirt and put it on.

"What the hell is going on?" she whispered to herself - attempting to steady her nerves, "what's going on?"

Mike re-entered the room with a glass of water and a bottle of pain medication.

"Take this," he offered still looking at her with concern, "do you feel any better," he questioned.

She reached for the water and the bottle, "Thank you," she said.

"My head is still killing me—but I guess I feel a little better," she put two pills in her mouth and took a swallow of water.

The light which he had left on in one of the other rooms in the apartment gave enough light into their bedroom for her to really get a good look at him. It was Mike. He was so handsome. He looked just like he did before the world ended. He was a beautiful man; over six feet tall with smooth strong coffee colored skin. Always so smooth. He had dark brown eyes with not a single blemish on his face. It appeared that his hair had recently been cut - she remembered in that moment how much she loved when his hair was lined the way it is now. _I always enjoyed looking at you - being touched by you_. She took another sip of water.

"You scared the shit out of me," Mike said as he sat on the bed next to her. He began to stroke her arm. She tried to focus on not showing that she was, ever so mildly, repulsed by his touch.

"That was some weird shit—you were looking like you didn't know me."

"I'm sorry—I think I was having a bad dream. I didn't mean to scare you,"

"Well that was one hell of a dream," he laughed looking at her. She still looked somewhat confused - he noticed. He also noticed that she flinched when he touched her.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He questioned.

"Yeah I am—just still have this headache."

He stood in front of her and put both of his hands on either side of her face – he began to rub her temple, "I know how I can make you feel better," he said in his flirtatiously suggestive manner – he was always good at that. He leaned over and kissed her forehead. He moved his hands from her temple to her shoulders and his mouth from her forehead to her neck.

The feeling was familiar. The feeling was nice - it was something that she had forgotten. The way his hands felt and the way his mouth felt was – good. It feels good...then she began to remember everything.

He reached down to her and began to pull her t-shirt up. She was still somewhat dazed as the flood of memories over took her. The thoughts of everything that happened with _her_ \- with this Michonne – were amazing. She remembered the passionate relationship that she had with the man in front of her - the life they had...Andre.

Her baby was alive.

"Andre…" she loudly whispered.

x-x-x

She jumped up and ran out of their bedroom - Mike ran behind her.

"Andre…" she shouted again as she ran through their apartment and opened her sons bedroom door. She ran to his bed - saw the sleeping little boy - and pulled him into her arms.

He wasn't her little baby anymore - he was six years old now, but he was still her little boy - her sweet little boy. She gripped him tighter. He smelled the same way he did when he was a baby. The last time she held him he was three years old - trying to squirm out of her arms. Even after the world ended he would say 'mommy I'm not a baby…I'm a big boy.'

Michonne lifted him completely from his bed and cradled him. "My sweet baby," she whispered into his ear. Mike stood behind her still confused.

"Michonne—what's going on?" Mike asked with both concern and confusion.

Michonne did not respond - she was in her own bubble with her son. He was moving around, still sleep - she could feel his heartbeat, she could feel his breath on her face - she began to cry.

"My baby—my little peanut," she whispered as her tears flowed. Mike stood there taking in the scene of mother and child, unsure of what exactly was going on.

Time stood still for her as she showered her son with kisses. Mike stood in stunned silence. After a few minutes, the weary mother released her son- she laid him on his bed and got on her knees on the floor next to him. She leaned over and stroked his face – ran her hands through his hair – kissed his cheeks some more. She stared down at him and wiped her tears. She then turned to Mike who stared – wordless.

"I told you I had a bad dream," she whispered, still overcome with emotion, "I just needed to touch him and make sure he was okay."

"He's fine," Mike finally spoke, "you checked on him last night when you got back from work and he was fine then, and he's fine now. We don't have to get him up for another hour so that gives us time to finish what we started," he said as he walked over to his girlfriend to convince her to go back to bed. Much like Rick, he loved morning sex.

She wiped her tears and she looked over to the naked man standing in front of her. It felt both normal and not normal. The fact that she had all these memories of Andre growing from three years old to six years old, and being with Mike; spending time with her family, working at the firm, and everything else that happens in this normal world - it felt weird. _Was it all a dream - a nightmare, or is this a dream? Did I die in that warehouse?_ _But I remember being here, so it can't be a dream._

A chill came over her; _I'm being watched…somebody is watching me_. She glanced around the room while Mike stared, still puzzled by her behavior.

"I'm just gonna stay in here with him for a while, okay," she told him, "I'll be in the room shortly."

She recognized the look of annoyance and sexual frustration on his face before he responded…

"Okay fine," and walked out of their sons room.

She turned and looked back at her son - her baby. She rubbed his face and lean down to kiss his cheek. She then climbed into his bed. She laid down on the side of him and held him close to her - his back was pressed firmly into her chest - she could smell every bit of her little boy. It was the best scent she'd ever known. She could feel his breathing and his heartbeat. He moved around but did not open his eyes. She began to whisper in his ear… "I love you so much sweetie…I love you so much…I missed you. I'm never gonna let you go my sweet little peanut."

She laid there with all the memories of this little boy - from the time she carried him in her body, to this very moment. She remembered everything; when he learned to read, his first little report card, all the pictures he drew her, all the kisses he gave her, the time outs that she and Mike gave him when he was being unruly and stubborn - she remembered it all.

She continued stroking her child's hair - then the thoughts and memories continued - Judith and Carl. _Oh my God, Judith and Carl. That was real. I know that was real. Carl is not just my buddy; he's my son too. Judith is my baby girl. I'd die for them,_ "just like you Peanut," she whispered _._ Tears flooded her eyes again only this time she realized the tears were not just her joy of finding her son, but the certain sadness at losing her other two babies. _Where are they_?

 _Rick…baby where are you? Was it all real? When I close my eyes and go back to sleep, will I be back in Alexandria?_

The surge of disjointed memories again consumed her. Her whole family was alive. Her father passed away a year ago, but everyone else was there - alive. She had her baby boy. Everyone that she had known three years ago was still living. Her college friends that meant so much to her had just planned to get together at the end of next month. She and her work friends were going for drinks tomorrow, that's right today is Thursday, "Wow," she said out loud "I know what the day of the week is." It was all so sobering. Everyone, everything that she had ever known, was still here.

 _But what about them? My family from when the world ended. The people that mean so much to me. I watched Andrea die, and Hershel get murdered right in front of me. I cut off Tyrese's arm to save, but he died anyway. So many friends died…Bob...Noah…Glenn…Abe…Sasha...more than I can count. Carl was shot and almost died...that kid is a damn fighter –_ she smiled lying there holding her baby boy _\- so much loss._

But along with the pain, hurt and sorrow; there _were_ unmistakable times joy along the way. _I fell in love. That man can be infuriating, but God I love him. In that world I wouldn't be able to live without them – without him. When I saw him die – or at least I thought he died – I wanted to die too. He's my lover, my partner, my soul._

She wasn't sure how she felt about Mike, but she knew without question that she was in love with Rick. He was her world.

The re-awakening mother kissed little Andre's head once more then got out of the bed. She went into the kitchen and turned on the coffee pot - glanced across the room at all the top of line appliances and the custom marble countertop she'd had installed two years ago and smiled. Heading back down the hallway she could hear the shower. _He's probably taking a cold shower_. She giggled.

Michonne walked back into her bedroom and went over to the desk that sat by the window, on Mike's side of the bed. She sat down and picked up her tablet. Once all the apps on the on the device were illuminated she tapped the Facebook icon. She typed Rick Grimes into the search engine – hundreds of results. _Narrow the search_. Rick Grimes, Georgia…still a lot of results, and some don't have a photo. _I remember…he was a deputy in King County._ Rick Grimes, King County, Georgia…only two results – neither picture was that of _her_ Rick.

She got up from the desk and walked over to the window. There was nothing like the artistry of the Atlanta skyline. When she and Mike found their current apartment eight years ago they were ecstatic – it was prime real estate. They hosted numerous parties before Andre came along. Becoming parents changed everything. Their little boy became their life. Mike changed when he became a father. The life of the party no longer – he morphed into super dad. He was over protective, and so loving…

…until the conventional world ended. He couldn't handle being the protector. He couldn't handle a life without rules or accouterments. He gave up on himself – and by extension – his girlfriend and his child. He couldn't survive sober, so he found his solace through artificial means.

But, in this world, he continued to flourish as a dad – as a man. Mike rarely drank, stopped doing any type of drugs two years ago, attended every one of Andre's doctor's visits, and went to every school function – Andre had just started the first grade and Mike had already taken off work to go on his school field trip today.

The contradiction was dumbfounding.

 _He's a good man. I'm sure I must love him, but – I don't feel it. I definitely loved him before the world went to shit. But—these last few years—it's like—like I was just watching their life from the outside._

 _None of this can be real. It's not a dream. I'm sure it's not a dream. But, I'm currently in an apartment with two people who died nearly three years ago – it probably makes better sense that I'm dead like them. We probably died in that warehouse. What do all these memories mean though? What's real? What do I know is actually real? Rick. I love that man. I'm so in love with him that when I thought he died I no longer wanted to live. I can't live in either world without him…Shit._

 _Where are you Rick? Where are you?_

She sat back down at the desk and picked up the tablet. _Rick is so old school that he probably doesn't do any social media. His wife…Lori…maybe she does. I wonder if he's still married to her. He probably is._

She tapped the icon and typed in Lori Grimes, King County, Georgia – that was her. Michonne remembered that face from the picture she and Carl rescued from that bar in King County. Prettier than she remembered. She went to the profile and began scrolling through the page. There they were. The two loves of her life – in her other life. Carl and Rick. Both so beautiful. She could barely breathe – she was overwhelmed. She could feel her heart pound faster as she looked at recent pictures of Rick and Carl. She took note of the dark haired man that was in many of the pictures – he was tagged – Shane Walsh. She froze. _Judith…my baby Judith. She has his eyes. She is definitely real…just maybe not here._

There were pictures from Carl's seventh grade promotion ceremony, Lori's recent birthday party, their family trip to the beach, Lori hanging with her friends at the movies, and on and on.

Michonne didn't realize her face was wet with tears. She had never been the jealous type, but she was consumed with it while she sat there looking at the photographic proof of her family's life without her – her post-apocalyptic family. She felt heartbroken – _I don't have a right to feel like this. I'm so damn stupid. But maybe he feels the same way I do. Maybe he's as confused as me. But what if he isn't?_ She wiped her face and stood up.

"Babe," Mike said as he entered the room, "are you feeling better?"

He walked up to her and wrapped his arm around her waist. He kissed her on the cheek then looked into her face…

"You've been crying—what's wrong? You know our son is fine, right? It was just a bad dream," He confirmed while wiping a tear with the pad of his thumb.

"Umm—I'm fine and I know he's fine—guess I'm just having one of those mornings," she replied stepping away from him and walking over to her closet.

"Is this a female thing babe? I mean—do you want me to do this field trip with Dre's class—and you can just stay home and relax," he offered watching her uncharacteristically distant behavior.

"Not every bad day is a female thing Mike," she snapped _. I'm fine – just desperately in love with a man who doesn't belong to me – a married man – a man who's not you._

"I didn't say it was—it's just that you've been acting weird all morning. Just seems like staying home and relaxing might be a good idea," he countered walking back to her.

"I'm sorry—I shouldn't've snapped at you. I'm okay. I wanna go on the fieldtrip—it's just the library, but I don't wanna miss his first time at the library with his class," she apologetically responded.

"Okay babe—I'll go and get Dre ready so you can take a long shower," he said kissing her cheek.

"Thank you Mike—I won't be in there too long," she promised as she left the bedroom and entered the bathroom. Her shock was palpable when she looked in the mirror and stood in awe of the woman before her – one she hadn't seen in a very long time.

x-x-x-x

"It's okay Rosita," Daryl said trying to calm his crying friend on the other line, "we'll figure this shit out." He peered out of the office door to make sure his less than understanding brother was out of earshot.

"Where are you?" He inquired.

Rosita grabbed a napkin from the nightstand by her transient bed and looked over at the other bed where her two friends were still sleeping. She walked to the bathroom and closed the door.

"I'm in San Diego," she said quietly between sniffles, "I live in Los Angeles—we drove down here yesterday – she paused – except for the fact that yesterday we were in that warehouse preparing for the fight with Negan…" she stopped, overcome with emotion again, "this doesn't make any sense—and I think I'm being watched."

"Look—we'll figure this out. We shouldn't talk about it over the phone though."

"You're right…" the usually detached fighter sniffled, "have you found any of the others yet?"

"Nah—not yet," he replied still watching the door, "you're the only one I've talked to so far."

"I just don't understand…"

"I think you need to come here—how soon can you get here?" He asked, not wanting to talk too much more over the phone.

"I was thinking the same thing. I work at a veteran's facility in L.A., I took a few days off to come here, but I have more vacation time accrued—I'll get a flight out of LAX tomorrow," she stopped, "should I fly into Decatur—is there an airport there?"

"Fly into Atlanta," he instructed, "take my number and text me your flight info. I'll pick you up from the airport."

Still overcome, she began to cry again. The rush of tears was the release that she needed – the release that she hadn't allowed herself to have.

"Okay…" she managed to say.

x-x-x-x-x

"I'm so glad you both came," Andre's teacher Mrs. Davis said to Mike and Michonne. They were getting a tour of the main branch library in Downtown Atlanta.

"I know that most of the kids won't be using this library, but it's so extravagant that we bring the kids here at the beginning of the school year— to try and sell them on the coolness of libraries before they become too cynical," she chuckled at her own joke.

"You're right about this library Mrs. Davis," Mike said, "I remember having this same tour when I was in grade school."

Michonne had been quiet during the tour. It was difficult to truly care about the workings of a library when she was missing her family. But watching Andre interact with his classmates was incredible. He was such a sweet beautiful little boy. He was the color of milk chocolate with big round eyes. He still retained some of his baby fat and was taller than most of the kids in his class. His little squeaky voice was more pronounced and his vocabulary was extremely advanced for his age. She couldn't help but think about Judith. She was just starting to string small two syllable words together. _You're gonna have to stop thinking about her or you're going to go crazy…maybe you already are._

"Mommy—mommy—I wanna show you something," said an excited Andre as he pulled his mother's hand, "c'mon mommy."

She looked over at her excited son and smiled, pulled out of her momentary reverie…

"Okay Peanut," she acquiesced as he hastened her away, "I'll be back shortly," she shouted over to Mike and Mrs. Davis.

Andre led his mother to the second floor to see the grandiose Dr. Seuss exhibit. It encompassed every character from all his most popular books. The six year old, with wide excited eyes, took his mom from display to display.

"C'mon mommy, my friend said they have really big green eggs and ham over there," he said pointing to the other side of the exhibit.

They began walking towards the display when Michonne froze in her tracks. Her friend. Her dead—alive friend. She couldn't move. There Sasha was, surrounded by a group of children. She was beautiful with her coyly hair pulled up into a messy bun; wearing blue jeans and a green t-shirt with the words **Jefferson Wolves Rock!** printed on the front. She was laughing and talking with a few of the over-exuberant elementary school students.

"Mommy what's wrong—c'mon," Andre said looking at his mom with a perplexed stare.

She couldn't move.

x-x-x-x-x

"I'm so glad that I'm not crazy—I started to think that I was losing my mind," she confessed.

"I was thinking the same thing—don't know what's goin' on—um, hold on for a minute," he said, sitting the phone receiver down and walking over to close his office door.

"Are you okay—are you safe?" He asked. It took him a minute, but when he heard Carol's voice he remembered the small bits of information he knew about her life before the world ended. Her husband Ed was and abusive son-of-a-bitch. She had confessed to him, in her indirect way, that he had broken her arm at least once. That confession came just before he exiled her from the prison. Living with his decision to exile her was just one of the many regrets that he struggled with in the other world.

"I'm fine—uh—Ed is living with his brother," she answered the un-asked question, "it's just me and Sophia."

"Sophia—Oh My God—Sophia! How is she?" He excitedly uttered - In an instant his mind went back to the farm. He never quite got over the guilt of not finding Sophia – alive. He'd made her a promise that he didn't keep.

"She's beautiful Rick. It's amazing. Unbelievable," she declared with motherly pride.

"Good—I'm glad," he deadpanned.

"Do you have any idea what's going on," Aware that he probably didn't know any more than she did.

"No—just an odd feeling…" he stopped.

"Yeah—me too," she said, knowing what he was referring to – still feeling like she was being watched.

"Have you been able to find anyone else?" He asked quickly.

"No—I called you first. You and Daryl are the only ones I was able to locate. I didn't do a deep search though," she replied before continuing, "umm—how is your family?" Carol wasn't exactly sure how to ask _the_ question.

"They're fine—we live in the same house we did—before everything…" he paused, "Lori and Carl are fine."

"Do they remember anything?" She hesitantly inquired.

"No—their life has been—normal here the last three years."

"Oh…" she wasn't sure what to say. His situation wasn't lost on her. She felt incredibly disconnected from everyone in her life – in this world – and she figured he did too.

When Rick found them at the camp site – not long after the traditional world ended - Carol witnessed the strain in his marriage. It was pretty obvious that the strain existed even before the world went to shit. The two were barely speaking when Lori died in childbirth. But now she's alive – and she's his wife.

There was a long silence on the line. Both weary travelers trying to figure out how to verbalize their current situation.

"Ahem," Rick cleared his throat and mindlessly twisted his wedding ring…

"I have to find—"

"We'll find her - _Carol interrupted_ \- and everyone else for that matter."

"Yeah…" he sighed, running his hand through his hair.

"You know—everyone thinks she's this hard, indestructible warrior—but she's not… _he swiveled his chair around to face the window before continuing_ …

"…I've seen her nearly break apart. She loves so deeply—she's not hard at all. She gives her all to everybody and doesn't save a lot for herself… _he sighed, becoming overcome with fear and sorrow_ …I need her Carol—I'm pretty sure that I don't deserve her—but I need her. We need each other," he finished in a whisper.

Carol got up from the desk she'd been stationed at for the last hour while she conducted her investigation and walked to her living room window.

"I know, Rick—believe me I know," she took in the enormity of everything that was going on, "can we meet somewhere later—Sophia will be with her father for the evening, so I'm free pretty much the whole day," she asked.

"Yeah," he ran his hand over his face, "that sounds like a good idea."

x-x-x-x-x

She stood there. Eyes transfixed on her friend. Her son continued to pull on her arm, but she couldn't move.

 _You look so happy—so bright. You were so lost after Tyrese – then Bob. When Rosita and I went looking for you, didn't look like you'd make it back to sanity – but you did. Damn – Was that real? Was any of it real?_

"Mommy…c'mon, I wanna show you," the determined little boy insisted.

"Okay baby," she replied, breaking her stare and looking down at her child.

They began to walk in the direction of the Green Eggs and Ham display – which was where her _friend_ was standing. Andre continued to talk excitedly as they made their way to the Dr. Seuss arrangement. Michonne was too distracted – and nervous – to pay attention to his words.

She was mere feet away from Sasha.

"Mommy look," Andre shouted excitedly, stepping away from his mother and pointing at the child friendly statuettes.

The shock of seeing her newly alive friend quickly turned into panic when Michonne realized that Andre was no longer next to her. Before she could shout his name into the sea of children, she saw him. Before she could make her way to her son, he was approached by Sasha.

"Hey young man," she greeted, getting the happy little boys attention, "where's your mom—or are you here with your school," she inquired lightly touching his shoulder.

Before Andre could reply, Michonne had walked up to them and was now standing behind her son.

"I'm here with my mom," he turned around and bumped into his mom's stomach, "that's her," he pointed.

"Oh Hi," Sasha greeted, "I saw him walking by himself and I figured that he probably broke away from someone in a mad rush to get to the main attraction here," she said while laughing.

Michonne still couldn't speak. She stared at Sasha – then her son. There was an awkward silence before Sasha continued…

"Umm—I'm Sasha Williams—these little ruffians are my students - _she motioned to the students standing near her_ \- we're from Jefferson Elementary School," extending her hand to the woman oddly staring at her.

"Oh," Michonne began, finally recovering from her shock, offering her hand in kind, "I'm sorry to stare—you just remind me of an old friend," she said.

"I have one of those kinds of faces I think," she replied, smiling at the strange woman standing in front of her, "and who do we have here?" turning her attention back to the little boy.

"I'm Andre Anthony. I'm in the first grade. This is my second week of school. I go to King Elementary in Atlanta," he spit out while extending his hand to the teacher.

"Well, -she laughed- it's nice to meet you Andre Anthony," she shook his hand.

Michonne watched the interaction. _She has no idea who I am. It had to be real. It must've been real. God—it had to be real._ She began to feel overwhelmed. _I think I'm gonna be sick._

"Andre, sweetie, I need to go to the ladies room. Let me take you back to your father."

"Mommy—I wanna stay here—pleeeease?" He whined.

"Daddy will bring you back—you can't stay here without me or him," she reached for his hand.

"Mrs. Anthony—he can stay here with me and my students if you'd like. Promise I'll watch him like a hawk," the pretty caramel teacher offered with a warm smile.

"Yay—can I mommy?" her son pleaded.

"Are you sure?" Michonne asked, looking into the eyes of her friend – there was no recognition of their previous relationship.

"Absolutely," she looked down into Andre's face, "you have to stay right next to me—like you're my shadow—okay."

"Okay, Miss Williams," he said shaking his head.

"Thank you Miss Williams—I'll be right back," she smiled and quickly turned around, heading for the closest restroom.

 _He won't know me. He won't want me. He'll look at me with eyes that don't see me – just like Sasha. He saved me in every way, and now he won't know me. How cruel, Get the whole world back and lose my love—my other children._ "It isn't fair," she whispered hastening her pace.

She walked into the lavatory and ran into one of the empty stalls - put out her hands, grabbing the wall and lowering her head. Her breathing was hindered. Her heart was beating out of time. The tears fell to the floor.

"Rick…you left me…" she cried, "I don't know what to do…I need you baby."

x-x-x-x-x

* * *

A/N - This was a very sobering chapter to write. Hopefully it was enjoyable to read. Every review means so much to me, so thank you in advance should you desire to leave one- good or bad.

Blessings...


	4. Chapter 4 - Lives Collide

**Chapter 4 – Lives Collide**

It was noon when Maggie decided to get out of bed. She looked around the room. As she perused the various artistic items on her wall and furniture in the room, she recalled every minute detail of decorating it; while at the same time having no idea why she chose certain items. Her head was in a tailspin. This was neither a dream nor a nightmare - it was her new reality. The world that changed into a place of ugliness and anarchy three years ago, was now restored. It was difficult to be completely happy or completely sad.

 _Am I supposed to be happy that a large part of my life was erased overnight…it wasn't even overnight…it was only seconds. Maybe it should be erased. Everybody died…but...I was strong there. I mattered…and Glenn…_

The thoughts wouldn't stop. She left her bedroom and walked down the stairs towards the common area of the farmhouse. The last time she'd been in this house it was overrun with walkers. So much had changed since then – or so she thought. But here she was – no change. _I'm back in Georgia on the farm; not in Virginia preparing to fight Negan and the Saviors._

The pictures and paintings that ran the length of the hallway wall were a visual history of the Greene family. The portraits had been there her entire life – dating back from even before her grandfather owned the farm. Hershel left the farm house – his father's house – when he was a teen and did not return until after his father died. He took ownership of the farmhouse and tried to be a better man than his father. He found his way out of the bottle and into the bible. Even through her rebellious years, Maggie always appreciated the kind of father he strived to be. _I wonder if daddy would ever understand what I'm going through. What scripture would he relate this to?_

She picked up her pace as her mind was assaulted by both good and horrific memories of her father. _I watched you get your throat cut. I didn't even get to bury you_. "I've gotta get out of here…" she muttered picking up her pace.

This new reality was bringing up old memories – as the new ones were taking hold. None of it made any sense. The only thing that she knew for sure was that for some reason – a reason that she would probably never know or understand - the dead came to life. The dead lived and society died.

In the wake of the dead world, she fell in love with a young Korean man named Glenn Rhee. _I know that was real, and If this is real, then maybe Glenn is alive and maybe he remembers our life together._

"Good afternoon honey…you look a little peaked…you feelin' any better?" Herschel greeted his daughter as she walked into the room.

"Hi Daddy," she replied still somewhat shaken by seeing her father not only alive but looking as young as he did before this normal world died…

"I still have a little bit of a headache, but I feel better. I think I just need to eat something," she responded.

"I saved some lunch for you—why don't you go on into the kitchen and grab a plate," he recommended.

Maggie had already decided that she would try to locate Glenn; along with trying to locate the others. She was never a social media type of person - no Twitter account, no Facebook account, no Instagram - she had nothing. Beth always accused her of being 'super old fashioned,' which was partly true. She wasn't up to date on all things internet, and barely used things like apps.

She walked into the kitchen and picked up the house phone that had been tethered to the same wall her entire life. Not being savvy with internet searches didn't mean she was cut off from the world. _I still know how to dial zero_ – she laughed for the first time since she was plunged into this new reality. She had the operator do a search for every Glenn Rhee in Fulton County, Dekalb County, and every county in the vicinity. After narrowing her search - recalling that he used to deliver pizzas - she was able to locate him. The operator couldn't tell her if he was married – obviously – but she was able to find out that he was the manager of a restaurant just outside of Atlanta.

"Daddy, I'm going out for a while," she told her father after taking a few bites of the leftovers he'd save for her, "I'll be back later on."

The good natured, white haired, retired veterinarian approached her with concern.

"Is everything okay Maggie?" he inquired, "You don't seem like yourself."

"I'm fine daddy," she said, "I'll be back later this evening—I need to go to Atlanta to take care of some business," even before the words completely left her mouth she realized that she'd said too much.

"Atlanta?" He asked with concern, "you're looking at least a three-hour drive," he removed his pocket watch from his pants and looked at the time.

Seeing the watch… _that watch_ …she almost lost all the calm and composure that she's gathered lying on her bed; _you gave that watch to Glenn – I gave it to Enid after he died_ …she shook her head and looked away from him.

"You won't make it back home 'til late tonight," he informed her – not noticing her reaction to the watch, "what's so important in Atlanta?"

"Just some paperwork I need to take care of for the school district—I don't mind the drive daddy," she said walking out of the kitchen. She walked up to her room to grab her keys and purse without further discussion.

She walked back down the stairs, looked into the mildly concerned dark blue eyes of her father, gave him a kiss, and then got in her car – headed to the Atlanta area.

oooooo

Michonne sat and watched her son and boyfriend play _Connect Four_ for over thirty minutes. They were at the dining room table laughing and making jokes that only a precocious six year old could find funny.

She was awestruck at her recollection of both having them, and not having them. Watching them playing games while she made dinner and talked on the phone to her friends was common place in this world; that was their normal routine when she didn't have to work late. It was not something new – except today it was. It felt like the first time. Her enjoyment at watching the two Anthony men, the men in her current life, was overshadowed by her longing.

Memories of watching Rick and Carl in times of peril, and in times of safety, were ever-present. Mike freely told Andre that he loved him - Rick did the same with Carl. It always warmed her heart to see their interaction. Her heart was warmed in the same way while she sat and watched _this_ father and son. She didn't realize that she was crying.

"Mommy, are you okay? Why are you crying?" her son asked from the other side of the room.

His voiced concern brought her out of her thoughts, which is when she realized that she was crying. She smiled over at him and wiped her tears.

"I'm fine peanut," she calmly told him.

Mike looked over at his girlfriend sitting not far from him and saw her attempting to hide her tears. He got up and walked to her - he kneeled.

"Mish, baby what's wrong? And don't tell me it's nothing because you've been acting strange all day. If it's not some kind of female thing than what's going on. Are you still upset about your nightmare?" He asked while gently rubbing her arms.

"I'm fine Mike. Maybe it _is_ a combination of the nightmare and a female thing," she smiled at him to make light of her current disposition.

"Is there anything I can do?" he asked, still rubbing her arms and now her shoulders.

"No—but I do need to run out for a little while," she informed him.

After seeing Sasha at the museum it was difficult for her to concentrate on this new reality. Vacillating between the two realities was mind numbing. It dawned on her as they drove home from Andre's school that maybe the only ones who were aware of the post-apocalyptic world are those that were in the warehouse with her when whatever happened _happened_.

Even if she had someone to talk to about what she was going through, she wasn't sure how she'd even express it. How could she explain her fear of contacting Rick? Afraid that he wouldn't want her – afraid that he would; it didn't make any sense. _None of this makes any sense._

While Mike drove them home - laughing about Andre's all-consuming fascination with Dr. Seuss - she sat in the passenger seat and scrolled through her phone looking up people who may now be nothing more than strangers. _They may not know me_. But they were friends that she'd stood with, fought with and was prepared to die with; she looked up Carol, Daryl, Maggie, and Rosita.

She located both Daryl and Carol with ease. A smile came across her face at the thought of Daryl owning a car repair shop. She remembered how he always worked on that motorcycle of his. Her nervousness did not allow her to call him. _If he looks at me the same way Sasha did…I think I'll fall apart. I can't handle that._ She decided that she would drive to Decatur – under the guise of having her car repaired, and see if he knew her.

"Where do you need to go?" Mike inquired.

"Just because I took the day off doesn't mean that my job stops… I still have work that has to get done," she harshly replied.

"Okay," he said standing up and backing away, "no need to bite my head off."

"I'm sorry Mike—I didn't mean to snap. I guess this really is one of those days. I'm a little frustrated because I just got a text involving the case that I've been working on—and I need to go prep a witness." She untruthfully confessed.

"Can I go with you mommy?" asked an excited Andre.

"Not this time Peanut—stay here with daddy and maybe when I get back we can go get ice cream."

"Yay—ice cream," he jumped up and ran over to his mother. She took him into her arms and hugged him tightly.

She walked to the door, after putting the excited six year old down, and picked up her purse before turning around to the father and son…

"Mike, If I'm gonna be late I'll give you a call," she promised before heading out the door.

oooooo

" _I'm a better father than you, Rick…I'm better for Lori than you, Rick."_

The words that he hadn't thought about, especially while trying to survive, came back without mercy. His best friend's words.

" _You got no idea what I can live with."_

Rick informed his secretary that he would be taking the remainder of the day off. He checked his schedule and saw that he didn't have much going on for today or tomorrow. He needed to get out of that office – away from the station.

" _You came back and destroyed everything."_

After his conversation with Carol, he was just as confused, but the feeling of insanity had dissipated. The fact that she was experiencing the same things meant that he was not going insane. Before he could leave the office his old friend approached.

"Hey, Rick—haven't seen you all day, what's going on?" Shane inquired.

Though all these new memories made it clear to him that Shane had been a consistent part of his life; he was finding it difficult to be in the man's presence.

" _You have a broken woman and a weak boy."_

Rick had to catch his breath. This is not the same Shane that fought with him when the world ended. This is not the same Shane that challenged him on every decision in the post-apocalyptic world. This is not the same Shane that tried to murder him. This is not _that_ Shane. _But I still don't trust you._

Battling dual trains of thought, with his oldest friend standing right in front of him, was uncomfortably awkward - to put it lightly. He wanted to both hug him and put a bullet through his brain. Three years of killing had changed him. He wasn't the same man.

" _You can't do what needs to be done."_

Judith flashed through his brain. His little baby girl. He and Michonne were currently raising this man's biological child; the daughter of his wife and best friend.

" _Why do this Shane?...so you can have my children call you daddy._ I know you…you won't be able to live with this _…you have no idea what I can live with."_

Rick had been doing his best not to think about Judith. _His_ little girl. But seeing Shane's face, seeing those eyes; the same eyes that his little girl had/has. He had to catch his breath.

"What's going on brother? You look sick," his old friend observed.

"I'm fine Shane. I'm just taking the rest of the day off— I do feel a little sick," he stated. It wasn't completely true, but it certainly was not completely untrue.

"Are you and Lori still coming over this weekend? Lisa's been looking forward to our little double date all week," Shane grinned his shiniest grin.

" _I'm a better father than you, Rick…I'm better for Lori than you, Rick."_

"That's the plan as far as I know," Rick said, attempting to hide his growing contempt for his best friend.

Shane walked up to Rick and smacked him on the back before turning around. He shouted over his shoulder to Rick…

"Good to know…hope you feel better. I'll see you later."

Rick was visibly shaken as he exited the building and got into his department vehicle.

oooooo

Carol drove to the restaurant that Rick had recommended. She couldn't help but reflect on her life after everything happened. She was conflicted. The idea of having your cake and eating it too was not lost on her. She wanted this world where Sophia was healthy and alive, but she also wanted her friends and family from the world that may or may not even exist.

Tobin had given her the sexual release that she needed - Daryl, Rick, and the others gave her the family that she craved. Then there was them…

There was Ezekiel and there was Morgan. Something about each man drew her to them. They were good decent men. After living with Ed for so many years – bearing witness to his inhumanity on a daily basis, it really never surprised her how easily people could be cruel.

She laughed as she drove closer to seeing her friend.

 _This world isn't all that much different than that one. The only difference is that no one has to pretend to be good or kind in that one. People just became the evil that they always were – but society never allowed them to be. But not Ezekiel and Morgan. They rose to become better than they were when the world still had rules. They're special._ She smiled. _I'll never tell them that though._

"Ezekiel already has a big enough head…damn pomegranates…" she said out loud as the radio played softly. _Would either of them be interested in this Carol? They liked my strength…my resourcefulness._

She glanced into her vanity mirror…

 _The gray haired take no prisoners' warrior is who they liked_ \- not _this brown haired timid Carol that let her husband beat the hell out of her for years. Would they even give me a second thought in this world? That damn Ed. How am I gonna stop myself from slitting his throat when I see his sorry ass?_

oooooo

This was the first time that Michonne had been alone in a car –without some kind of threat looming over her - for a very long time. Driving in her new red BMW 335I Coupe heading to Decatur with the sunroof open was glorious. She truly had time to think. The drive wouldn't be more than thirty minutes, but that was thirty minutes of alone time that she had yet to get in this world.

All the what if's. _What if Daryl doesn't know me? That would mean that Rick and the others wouldn't either. What if I have to spend the rest of my life never knowing what was true and what wasn't true? But, what if he does know me? Is that a can of worms that we're prepared to open? Damn._

She turned on the radio as she breezed down the highway. Listening to various stations; music, talk radio, needless and useless banter; it was all unbelievable.

She looked at the navigation system and saw that she was approaching the exit. All of a sudden an intense feeling of nervousness set in. She laughed at the ridiculousness of being nervous - but yet she was.

She got off the exit and glanced at the time. It was already after three. _What if he's not there?_ She then got nervous for a whole new reason.

The somewhat intrusive voice navigating her indicated that she was mere minutes away. She scanned the addresses on the dead-end street and saw the sign - small though it was - located on the opposite side of the street. She looked in the mirror and checked her makeup and then laughed…

"Daryl could care less what you look like," she laughed again, took a deep breath, and steeled her nerves before reaching for the door handle.

oooooo

Daryl never had the chance to look up his friends. After speaking with Rosita, he and Merle were overrun with customers. Even though they had two employees, the brothers had to roll up their sleeves and work – harder than they had in a while.

"Little brother, are you almost finished with that?" Merle asked. "We told those folks their car would be done by five."

Daryl ignored his meddlesome brother. Though he was consumed with his thoughts, his innate work ethic did not allow him to stop working. Merle's inability to leave him alone was just one of the many issues that the two dealt with on a daily basis.

"Did you hear me, little brother? How much longer?" Merle asked again.

"It'll be done when it's done," Daryl replied.

Merle grunted at and walked back towards the office. He looked at the front of the garage and saw a woman coming towards them. Her dark skin glistened in the August Georgia sun. Her long dreadlocks were pulled into a ponytail. She had on a white T-shirt that accentuated her bosom and blue jeans that accentuated her hips and back side. She was without question the most curvaceous woman he'd seen in a very long time. She looked oddly out of place as she approached the business. Merle stopped what he was doing and walked towards her. Daryl was face down in the hood of a Toyota Tercel.

"Good morning ma'am, may I help you?" Merle asked as he approached the wearisome warrior.

Michonne stopped. She attempted to disguise her shock at seeing Merle Dixon again, but she was pretty sure it was a lost cause. He looked almost the same; except he had both his hands, he was a little more clean-shaven and he was less greasy than she remembered.

Her final interactions with Merle were confusing, to say the least. He was a brute, and he was a racist. But, his final deeds in that world were admirable. He could've killed her but he let her go. In his final act, he tried to take out as much of the governors people as he could. _It was a heroic death…just like Sasha._ She often thought that how you die says as much about your humanity as how you lived. If that was the case, then Merle really was a somewhat decent guy. Either way, she would not let him distract or dissuade her from seeing her friend.

"May I help you, ma'am?" he repeated. She had stopped walking - attempting to gather her nerves.

"Ummm... I wanted to see if someone could look at my car. It's been making a weird noise and I heard that this was a pretty good garage," She said.

Merle walked closer to her - taking in her somewhat hesitant body language and the confused expression on her face - almost as if she'd seen a ghost before he replied...

"I'm happy to know that people are sayin' good things 'bout us...we'd be happy to look at your car ma'am, but you'd have to leave it 'cuz we're real busy today." He had gotten almost a breath away from her. She was still in awe of seeing the elder Dixon.

"Oh, I understand," she said twisting her phone in her hand, "I probably should've called ahead," she admitted.

"Nah...There ain't usually a reason to call and make no kinda appointment. Today is just busier than normal," he responded.

"Are you...uh...the only one working here today?" She inquired.

From where they stood she couldn't quite see into the garage, though she could hear rattling.

"The co-owner, my brother, he's here and we have a couple'a guys...but everybody's got their hands full right now," he said looking at her hesitancy to leave.

"Oh," she responded. _I'm not sure what to do. If I shout for Daryl and he doesn't know me they'll think I'm crazy. I knew this was a bad idea._

"Ummm," she began, "do you think I could get one of your business cards so that I can call next time…just to make sure you're not too busy?" she asked.

"Sure thing," he said reaching into his pocket, "you know what, do you mind following me into the office, don't look like I got no cards on me," he smiled.

"Sure…no problem." They began walking towards the office.

Once she got into the garage she looked around; three men were working. She didn't know two of the men, but the man whose face was currently buried under the hood of a blue car was definitely Daryl. She looked in his direction.

Daryl had been working on this car, caught up in his thoughts. He felt an odd feeling - it was a feeling that sent shivers through his body. He looked up and saw her looking at him. He dropped the wrench. She looked younger and shapelier than he'd remembered, but it was his friend.

"'Chonne..." he shouted before he even realized that it came out of his mouth.

"Daryl..." her elation was unequivocal. He made his way to her before she could utter another word. He lifted her off the ground. They wrapped their arms around each other as tight as they could. She laid her head on his shoulder. The feeling was almost the same as when they embraced at The Hilltop. Seeing her old friend who'd been so battered and beaten warmed her heart then, just as it did right now.

They were both in tears. He was probably one of the most loyal men she'd ever known. He was stubborn beyond words but his integrity was above reproach. His reluctant kindness was special - in both worlds.

All the deaths that they'd witnessed; the pain, the sorrow, it all flooded back to both. They were also experiencing a feeling of acceptance and understanding that none of the people in their lives – in this world – would ever be able to give them. He held her tightly.

Neither spoke another word while they embraced.

"Ahem," Merle cleared his throat.

Daryl heard his brother and instantly realized where they were. He wiped his face before breaking the embrace. Michonne lowered her head and wiped her face. Daryl turned to face his brother, standing in front of Michonne, obscuring Merle's view of her.

"What's going on little brother?" Merle inquired.

"This is a friend of mine," Daryl replied looking at the disapproval on his brother's face.

"We're goin' into the office... I'll be back in a minute," he told Merle as he reached for Michonne's hand and led her into the office. He didn't give Merle an opportunity to reply.

They walked into the small room that was presently doubling as a work space and living quarters. Daryl closed the door. Michonne turned around and grabbed him for another hug.

"I am so happy to see you—I thought—" she sniffled.

"I know," he said.

"Do you have any idea what's going on?" she asked, finally letting go of him.

"No, Don't got no damn idea," he responded.

"For a while, I thought it was just me. I ran into Sasha earlier and she didn't know who I was," she said as she wiped tears from her eyes.

"Yeah…I thought the same thing, but then Rosita called me..."

"Rosita..." she interrupted excitedly, "you heard from Rosita? Have you heard from anybody else? Have you talked to anybody?" She spat out.

He sat down on the couch - she sat next to him. They began to tell the other what they'd experienced since arriving in this new old world. They both had the same feeling of being watched and neither was clear as to what their feelings about everything _should be_.

"I want to go with you to pick up Rosita tomorrow," Michonne informed him.

"Okay," he told her, "I got a text from her a couple hours ago, looks like her flight'll be in tomorrow around two," he informed his worried friend.

"Damn…I'm supposed to pick up my son tomorrow. Maybe we can meet up afterward," she said before realizing that Daryl never knew she had a son. It wasn't something that she talked about with most of her family in the post-apocalyptic world.

"A son..." he queried.

"Yeah...I lost him right after the world ended. He was three years old then...now he's six," she began to get overcome with emotion again. He rubbed her shoulder and smiled.

"I'm glad for you 'Chonne,"

"Thank you, Daryl...I don't even know how to put into words how I feel..." she stopped.

"...Yeah," he interrupted, he didn't need her to finish that statement, he knew.

"We _all_ need to get together and try to figure this shit out..." he looked at her. She was distractedly staring off into space.

"Uh...Have you tried to reach Rick?" He asked hesitantly. It was the elephant in the room.

"No," she said, standing and turning away from him.

"What's wrong, 'Chonne?" He asked although he already knew the answer.

"Nothin' Daryl - you're right, we all _do_ need to get together and try to figure this out," she agreed...

"... Doesn't look like I'll be able to go with you to get Rosie, but we can all get together once you've picked her up."

"'Chonne, I'm sure he's trying to figure out where you are," he told his the regal warrior.

He'd seen her take control when they made the decision to go to Alexandria. He'd seen her knock sense into Rick's head when it was needed; he'd seen her resilience in every situation, but this was something different. This was an insecurity that he didn't recognize.

"You know how he feels about you, right?" He asked the seemingly rhetorical question of the suddenly timid woman.

She turned around and walked over to the desk in the small office and picked up a piece of paper and a pen...

"...that was there, in that world…that wasn't here. I'm sure he's happy to be back with his wife." She said as she began to write.

"'Chonne…?"

"You clean up real good Dixon…" she smiled ignoring all the words that his face silently expressed; not allowing him to finish saying what he wanted to say...

"...looks like you got rid of all those fleas," she joked, getting overcome with emotion once more.

"Michonne...?" he insisted.

"Look, here's my phone number and my address…give me a call once everyone's together," she turned around and promptly grabbed him. She held him tightly before breaking the hug. She opened the door, looked over at her friend, and then walked quickly back to her car.

Daryl stood there in the office, both quiet and stupefied. Merle walked into the office with a smirk on his face.

"Yeah...I knew you was a closet Democrat little brother," he said.

oooooo

Maggie sat in her car outside of the _Orange Duck Restaurant_ in College Park. She watched Glenn walk into the restaurant. He was laughing and talking to a beautiful Asian woman with long black hair. She couldn't move. He was happy. In no way did he look like he'd just landed in this reality - the chances of him knowing her were pretty slim. So, she sat and watched. She was the woman that she and her friends made fun of. An ex-girlfriend stalker. However, in her case, there was not a title that fit. _I'm not his ex. I'm the mother of his child…a child that doesn't exist anymore._

"You are _not_ gonna start cryin' again…" she assured herself in the rearview mirror as she sat there.

Glenn was the best man she'd ever known. He was a beautiful soul who had a horribly gruesome death. She laughed thinking about how shy he was when they first met on the farm. Beth may have been right when she made fun of how old-fashioned she is, but Maggie had never been old fashioned when it came to her sexual dalliances. She enjoyed sex and had no problem being the aggressor when it came to her needs. She remembered being the aggressor with Glenn. She was also the sexual aggressor with Barry, the guy she'd been seeing for the past few months. Barry looked like a deer in headlights when she propositioned him; the same way Glenn did.

She sat in her car and laughed – the crying had ceased about an hour earlier.

"Time to get with the new millennium," she told her phone and her empty car. She unlocked her phone and did a search for Carol Peletier. A home number was listed for Carol and Ed Peletier.

oooooo

Rick got to the meeting place first. It was actually a small diner just outside of Atlanta. He had come across the little eatery – _Mel's Diner_ – while working on a case and found that it was not only private but the food was good.

He got a booth in a private corner of the establishment. He glanced out the window and saw Carol getting out of her car. He almost didn't recognize her. She looked so much younger. He couldn't help but think about all the things they'd gone through. It may have been only three short years but they lived a lifetime.

Carol was without question was an enigma wrapped up in a riddle. She was the angel that sat on his left shoulder while also being the devil that sat on his right.

Rick stood to greet her as she approached the table. They embraced then took their seat. After ordering from the bubbly waitress they began to discuss what they knew, what they didn't know and everything else.

"…Maggie called me just before I left to come see you."

"Maggie…" He exclaimed excitedly, "She okay?"

"She's fine; she was upset and just as confused as we are. She was sitting outside of a restaurant not far from here…watching Glenn…"

They looked at each other – they didn't say the words out loud. Rick realized that they had never spoken about losing Glenn. She returned to fight Negan. The war started and they were battle scarred. There had not been a time to discuss the loss of one of the most honorable men either ever knew. Grieving properly did not exist in that world.

Rick reached across the table and took his friend's hand. He looked into her uncharacteristically soft gray eyes and followed her lead - they bowed their head and in the quiet, they sent up a small prayer for the Glenn that they lost in the world where society barely existed…

" _We really miss you, friend...you were the best of who we are as human beings. The horrors of that world never changed you_."

Carol dropped a few tears before shaking her head to move forward...

"She didn't go up to him, she just watched him - she was really upset. I gave her this address so hopefully, she'll be here soon."

"You said that you located Daryl, have you talked to him yet?" Rick inquired.

"No, I called his auto repair shop, but I just got the answering machine. I didn't wanna leave a message. I have the address...so maybe we can just go over there."

"Yeah we need to do that," Rick confirmed, "I hope he's okay," he said distractedly.

There was a pregnant pause that lasted until the waitress brought their drinks. Rick spoke first...

"Have you had any luck locating Michonne?" He asked, stirring his coffee, not looking her in the face.

"No…I can't figure out how to locate her," she shared. There was another long pause, laced with awkwardness that the two survivors were quickly becoming familiar with.

"How are _you_ doing, Rick?" Carol asked as she watched the frazzled leader.

Rick and Carol knew each other in a way that most of their group never would. Their unspoken communication was strong from the time he confronted her about killing Karen and David. They were two people who generally dispensed with niceties. He looked up from his coffee and confronted the question she didn't verbalize…

"You mean how am I handling being a married man—a married man that can barely think about anything other than finding his girlfriend?" He sarcastically asked while glaring into her warm gray eyes.

Carol glanced around the diner, still in awe of how normal the world looked, before responding…

"Yeah," she smiled, "we have to keep it together…I don't think we can afford to lose our shit right now."

oooooo

Michonne was lying on her bed trying to figure out how to deal with the swirl of muddled emotions. After leaving Daryl she was even more confused. It was good to know that she wasn't crazy, but that meant that she really was lost. In this world, she lived with a man that was in love with her – in that world she lived with a man that _she_ was in love with. She was in love with a man that had a wife and was undoubtedly in love with his wife.

 _Michonne you cannot be this selfish. He lost his wife. Now he's got her back. You lost Mike and now you have him back. I'm happy for him. I'm happy for her. This is the way it should be._

Mike offered to make dinner and told her to just rest. She laid on her bed; fiddled with her phone and stared at the pictures of her little boy that sat by their bed. She could hear Mike and Andre playing a board game in the dining room. She sat up and grabbed her tablet from the nightstand and went to her Facebook app. She went back to Lori Grimes' page.

 _Okay girl…you have become a serious stalker. Actually, I don't think she's all that pretty. Her eyes are weird. Her hair looks like it might smell. She's definitely too damn skinny for him. I know how much he loves my ass and she clearly doesn't have one…..Plus, Carl said her pancakes were really bad._

"Stop it Michonne," she whispered into her darkening room. _She's his wife and Carl's mom. But….What if they have sex tonight…or any night._

She closed the app and sat the tablet down. Sitting in her room pining for a married man was ridiculous, she knew that without question. _Is there a normal way to act when in an instant your life is turned upside down?_

She walked over to her closet and pulled out one of her workout outfits. She slipped out of her jeans and her t-shirt…

"Mommy…there's people here for you," Andre shouted.

"Okay Peanut, I'll be there in a minute," she shouted down the hall as Mike entered their bedroom. He walked up to her, taking in her near nakedness and stroked her arm suggestively. She felt an overwhelming need to get her clothes on.

"Hey babe, there's some people here…said they're working with you on a case …" he said staring at her breasts…

"…Maybe after they leave, and after we get Andre down for the night - _he reached over to grab her backside_ \- we can finish what we started this morning," he said leaning over to kiss her neck.

"Uhh," she started as she backed away and began putting on the leggings, "we'll see," she smiled, wiggling into the workout attire.

"Mommy," came a shout from down the hall. Mike backed away, pretending to not notice her hesitancy.

"I'll go deal with him…don't forget you have company," he informed her – heading out of the room to their demanding son.

Michonne slipped off her bra and put on her workout tank top. Andre ran into the room…

"…Mommy, I met the people you work with…are we still gonna go get ice cream?" Her son inquired while pulling on her arm.

"I don't know baby, depends on what work I have to do. If I can't take you, I'm sure daddy will," she told him as he pulled her down the hall.

"Mommy, I wanna go back to the library to see Dr. Seuss and maybe I can see Miss Williams because she was really nice, and her school is by my school, and she likes Dr. Seuss, and—"

"Andre honey, slow down," she told her son who was in the mid-raddle mode. They had reached the living room when she looked up from her insistent son…she stopped…taken aback…

In the middle of her living room, standing next to her dark brown leather sectional and matching Ottoman - Mike was making small talk with Carol, Maggie, Daryl, and Rick.

oooooo

* * *

Thank you for reading. Let me know what you think.


	5. Chapter 5 - Our Way Forward

**Chapter 5 – Our Way Forward**

Merle was having the weirdest day of his life; which is saying a lot since he'd seen a lot of weird shit in his time. But today - today was weird. First, a black woman with dreadlocks showed up and his little brother stood there and cried in the woman's arms - right in front of their employees. And now, the older Dixon brother is standing there watching his little brother hugging a deputy, a cute little farm girl, and a thin wisp of a woman - crying...it's a weird day indeed.

"Ahem." He cleared his throat, "umm...little brother. Can I have a word with you?"

Daryl turned around, and without mixing his words said...

"No. I'm going out. I'll be back later." And with that, the younger Dixon brother left the auto body shop with Rick, Maggie and Carol.

"Do you think we should call before we go over?" Maggie asked as they got into Ricks car and headed for the highway.

"No," Rick said without hesitation, "I'd rather just get over there."

They'd become reacquainted with this un-infected reality around twelve hours earlier; in this world they were strangers. Their lives did not intersect. They were, for all intent and purposes, their own person again. Not fighters or survivors.

But, without contemplation, they all fell back into the roles that they had in the other world. Rick was their leader. Discussion could happen, but ultimately, Rick made the decisions. The only one that really challenged him and made him think about his actions, was Michonne. He was anxious to get to her.

"Okay," they all agreed.

x-x-x-x

Daryl told the others about Michonne's son on the short drive to Atlanta; only Rick and Carl knew about her little boy. Some information is shared only once, never to be discussed again – such was the case in regards to discussing both the life and death of Andre Anthony.

Carol and Maggie remained silent. They remembered how the katana wielding stranger was when they first met her at the prison. Her distant demeanor. Her lack of trust. She was running away from something unspeakable. They now knew what it was.

Her lost son was the missing puzzle piece that none of them ever knew to look for – he was the answer to a question that they never asked.

Both women, for their own reasons, had a lot to think about. Some secrets weren't really secrets, they were just too private to share. Michonne's was Andre; they had their own. The ride to Atlanta was done in silence.

x-x-x-x

After they rang the doorbell and awaited the answer from the other side of the door, a nervousness came over Rick. Among all the other realizations that he was dealing with in this newly discovered world, he realized that he knew so little about the woman with whom he shared his home, his children and his bed.

He didn't even know her last name. He was in love with her but didn't actually know her. _What's gonna be on the other side of that door? What if she doesn't want to see me? If she hadn't contacted Daryl, I may have never found her._

Learning the past of the people he was surviving with never seemed important, until now. It's one thing to not know the past of everyone he was tasked with protecting; but to not know his woman's name – life, dreams, and so on – was inexcusable. _What was her life like before the world ended? Why didn't I ever ask?_

A tall brown skinned man with a large smile opened the door. Rick was not exactly sure how he felt. The best way to describe it was probably a combination of jealousy and regret. _So this is him._

Maggie stepped in front of the others and greeted Michonne's boyfriend. After being welcomed into the home of their friend, the group of lost travelers introduced themselves to Mike and Andre as work colleagues who were following up on an active case.

Carol and Maggie were still riding a wave of unaddressed remorse when they met Michonne's son at the front door.

"I'm Andre Anthony, who are you?" the young man posed the question to all four. While they stood in the living room speaking with the man of the house and the eager little boy, Rick took note of the décor.

It looked like her - or at least it looked like the her that he assumed she probably was before the world fell. It had a very elegantly modern feel with pieces of antique furniture throughout. There was a large African print above the fireplace and various pictures of Michonne with both Anthony men Andy other family members throughout.

Andre shouted to his mother, announcing the visitors, before both he and his father briefly left to get her. Rick and Daryl didn't speak.

"This is a really nice home," Maggie said, attempting to ease the tension. Both men were distracted. Rick nodded, "her son is a real little cutie," she continued with a smile as she walked closer to the mantle over the fireplace to glimpse at the pictures.

"Yeah…he is," Carol agreed quietly.

"She'll be right out," Mike said upon reentering the room.

Rick looked behind Mike Anthony as he began to regale the group with stories of his son's excitement at starting first grade. He watched her come around the corner. She was beautiful. The last time he'd seen her – which was just yesterday – the bruises she'd sustained from her hand-to-hand battle were still visible. That woman had weary and tired eyes, hair lacked sheen and she was thinner than normal. But not this woman – this woman was different. Her entire aura was bright and strong with a beautiful glow.

Carol stepped in front of Rick – very subtly – to block his view of Michonne, and to block Michonne's view of him. There was no doubt that their eyes would betray them. Neither seemed able to break their stare. - _Carol was without question, both the_ _angel on his left and devil on his right-_

"Andre—your dad was telling us that you just saw the Dr. Seuss exhibit at the library," Carol said, bending slightly to get the young man's attention, "my daughter loved that exhibit too."

Andre let go of his mother's hand and walked closer to the friendly lady with short brown hair. Maggie walked over to Michonne and gave her a hug. The stunned mother had hitched breath and was clearly unable to break her Rick gazing. Maggie whispered into her ear…

"It's okay…just breathe…" she held her friend close. They both squeezed their eyes with the intent to quell the tears that were trying to escape. The love in the embrace needed no words. Michonne's realization that Maggie was no longer pregnant with the child of her beloved Glenn; Maggie's realization that Michonne had to live with the loss of her son. They held each other tighter - momentarily unbreakable.

Rick and Daryl remained silent – communicating only with small smiles and head nods. Carol continued speaking with little Andre – drawing Mike into the conversation. Michonne had not yet uttered a word. Her attempts to look at Rick was now averted by both Daryl and Maggie – Daryl stood in front of Rick and Maggie stood directly in front of her.

"Are you planning to work late, babe?" Mike asked, completely unaware of the shell game dance currently being conducted in his apartment. He turned away from his son and the friendly woman and faced his girlfriend.

Maggie squeezed her hand and stepped away to give her a clear view of Mike…

"Umm…I don't think it'll be too long. Can you…uh, take Andre to get ice cream?"

"Yay! Daddy, let's go get ice cream," he turned and grabbed is father's hand to lead him towards the door to get the treasured treat. Mike patted his son on the head…

"Okay…we can do that," he turned back to face his distracted girlfriend, "I can take him by my parents to pick up the school supplies they have for him. Mom's been driving me crazy."

"Yeah daddy. I wanna go see grand mommy and granddaddy…can we mommy?" He asked jumping up and down. Not only could he get ice cream, but he could see two of his favorite people. Every adult in the room was now looking at the child who was bursting at the seams.

It took six minutes for Mike and Andre to get to the door. Mike looked at the people in his home and a strange feeling came over him. He walked back to Michonne and kissed her on the cheek – no question that he just marked his territory.

x-x-x-x-x-x

The door closed…

There was no hesitation. He got to her in mere seconds.

"Rick…" was all she was able to whisper before his mouth was on hers. She held onto the man she was in love with. He parted her mouth with his tongue and they began to kiss. The kiss deepened. She tasted like red wine – he tasted like mint. His hands moved from her back down to her backside. She ran her hands through his hair. They tasted each other – devouring one another's tongue. He pulled her closer. She began to suck his bottom lip. She moaned into his mouth while running her hands through his hair.

"I missed you, baby…" he whispered into her mouth.

"Oh, Rick…I thought I'd lost you," she replied – the tears she'd attempted to suppress began to fall. He moved his mouth to her cheek, and then back to her mouth. They both tasted her tears.

"Never," he assured as she began to roll her tongue along his bottom lip and fisted his hair. He moved his hands from her back side, slowly up her hips until he reached her face. He wiped her tears – not breaking the kiss. He held her tighter – she could feel his growing excitement below his belt; he could feel hers through her work out t-shirt.

 _click click click_

The door was being unlocked and the sound of little Andre's voice was emanating from the other side of the door.

The newly reunited love birds were too enamored to take note of the sound…

"Rick…" Daryl quietly shouted from the other side of the room while walking towards his friends that had not yet broken their kiss and groping session.

"Michonne…Rick" Carol said walking towards the two with the stride of a cheetah.

Michonne and Rick reticently broke their embrace. Both were momentarily dazed. Carol walked up to them, looked down at Rick's aroused state…

"Go to the bathroom," she instructed. Michonne unable to speak at the moment, her eyes were stuck in a lust-filled haze – her face still wet with tears.

"Michonne…" Carol softly shook her as the door was opening. She pushed Rick down the hall and guided Michonne towards the kitchen. Rick hastened his pace out of view as little feet made their way into the apartment. Carol walked Michonne into the kitchen towards the coffee pot…

"Guess who got almost to the car before realizing he needed to use the bathroom…" she heard Mike tell her friends.

Carol moved swift and without words. The stealth like movements that she employed could rival those of any well trained Navy Seal. In a matter of seconds, she wiped Michonne's tears, filled the coffee pot with water, put coffee in the filter basket, grabbed cookies from the package that sat on the counter, emptied them on a plate and turned to face the six year old as he came barreling towards the kitchen…

"Mommy," Andre shouted, not stopping to acknowledge his mom's work friends as he ran towards the kitchen.

"Hey Peanut, I see you're back," his frazzled mother acknowledged, slowly recovering from her hyper aroused state.

"I need to use it," he informed her jumping around in his exaggerated pee-pee dance.

"Go use the one in mommy and daddy's room…Deputy Grimes is in the hall one…okay,"

"Okay mommy," he said running towards his parents' bedroom.

Mike and Andre stayed in the apartment just long enough to completely suck all sexual tension out of the room – leaving behind a simple awkwardness that they, again, were unaware of.

"Bye, mommy…"

x-x-x-x-x-x

The gathering of friends headed to the kitchen. The coffee which was started as a simple ruse, was poured by Carol." Where do we even start?"

"Michonne," Carol started, "What _is_ your last name? I wasn't able to locate you anywhere."

Everyone laughed and started throwing out random names as they grabbed their coffee cups from the counter and sat at the table… "Benson…Jones…Perry…Warrior-Princess...Obama…"

"You guys are hilarious," she laughed. The awkwardness that had previously permeated the room had quickly dissipated. They were friends – they were family – but had never shared uninhibited laughter. Fighting the living and killing the dead didn't leave a lot of time for merriment. Carol smacked Daryl's leg while the sullen man laughed.

"Well, you're all wrong. My name isn't actually Michonne…well not legally," she smiled looking around the room at the smiles and confused looks on her friends' faces…

"…My name is Michelle Onette," she said, sitting down at the table with her coffee, "when I was in elementary school…Madonna was the big thing. My friends and I decided that it would be cool to go by just one name. I always hated my name anyway…I always thought it was _way_ too ordinary… _she paused for a moment and grinned_ …

"…I guess Michelle Obama kinda made it cool - but, back then, I hated it. So, we all combined our first names with our last and came up with our singular name," she giggled still looking at the confused faces…

"I came up with Michonne…and, well, through the years my friends and family started calling me that. I don't use it in business or with any professional associations of course…"

She looked down into her coffee mug as her emotions took over. She stared into the abyss of her regret…

"…When the world ended, Michelle was a reminder of everything that I'd lost. Mike and I were together when everything happened and he never called me Michelle. I don't think Michelle could've survived…so it was easy to just let her die," she looked up at her friends with a weak smile and tears in her eyes.

Rick got up from his seat and walked over to his love. He picked up her hand and kissed it.

x-x-x-x-x-x

"I can remember everything that happened once the world ended in the world we just came from, _and_ I can remember everything that happened here the last three years…" Michonne began the discussion of their current circumstance.

"…I just don't know how I feel or felt about anything here…almost as if I was standing on the outside watching what was happening to me…"

"I know exactly how you feel," Maggie interrupted, "even though I remember everything here, It's like there's some kinda tarp covering all my feelings, only allowing the memories, but no feelings behind them."

"So what does all of this mean?" Carol asked with growing frustration, "I love my daughter…my Sophia…but, I love my Sophia that I knew. I just don't feel like I actually know her…this Sophia." She took a deep breath – embarrassed about lack of her feelings towards her own daughter – but also relieved that she could admit it out loud after a day of pure confusion.

"I don't know what it all means," Rick stated, "I know that Lori and I were in marriage counseling during the last three years, but since I don't know what was actually going through my mind, I'm not sure if that means my marriage recovered or not." He frowned, running his hand over his forehead with furrowed eyebrows as he made his admission. He looked over at Michonne - she quickly looked away from him.

Daryl, who had stayed silent during the bulk of the conversation, spoke up…

"So what are the things that we _do_ know?" He wondered.

"I don't think it's a dream," Maggie offered first, "'cuz our memories are too clear and too detailed."

"First I thought maybe we were dead," Carol said, "but I don't think we are."

"Maybe Negan somehow drugged us…we could be at one of the Saviors outpost?" Michonne said looking at the others for some type of confirmation.

"I don't know," Rick said, "If that's the case then this could be some kind of elaborate trap."

"The swirling light…maybe it brought us here. Some kinda portal?" Maggie offered.

"Sounds like science fiction…" Daryl grunted.

"Kinda like the dead coming to life…if that could happen, then is there anything that's unbelievable?" Maggie huffed.

No one spoke for a few minutes…

"Could it be some kind of government experiment?" Michonne said.

"But what government? The world that had any kind of government ended. Who could've conducted the experiment?" Carol asked.

"Maybe it has something to do with Eugene…I mean, he's a liar, and he's weak, but he did know a lot of stuff…" Maggie said.

They considered her words.

"I just think we need to stay close to each other," Rick said looking around the room at the other survivors. His eyes stopped on Michonne. Their unspoken communication lasted until Maggie broke the silence.

"I agree. I'm a little scared to go to sleep tonight. I don't know where I'll be when I wake up," her words echoing the thoughts that no one else had yet expressed.

Over the past thirty minutes the conversation had been a recounting of their day, speculation of what it all could possibly mean, various conspiracy theories, but Maggie was the first to give voice to the biggest fear…where will they be tomorrow?

"Maggie," all eyes turned to Michonne, "You should spend the night here. We have a guest room…and at least if we _do_ wake up here, we'll be together."

Maggie took a moment to consider the offer. This was in no way a simple offer. They all knew what it really meant. It solved a couple of problems. Maggie was still not comfortable seeing Hershel – he was a living reminder of all that she'd lost; though they were no longer lost. Mike made his intentions clear in regards to what he wanted to do with his girlfriend when he returned home – when their guests were gone and their son was being there could squash his advances.

x-x-x-x

The group continued to express their thoughts on what their current predicament could possibly be. The conversation, which hadn't lasted very long, was incredibly cathartic. The ability to talk about their unbelievable journey with people who could understand was glorious. There was no need for pretense. No matter what wild ideas they came up with to explain what was happening, none felt that men with white coats and a large net would show up and take them away. This was their safe zone.

Any eavesdropper on their conversation would think that they were a group of conspiracy theorists - but how could they not be? They had lived a three year nightmare that just turned into a daymare. Rod Serling himself would consider their predicament too preposterous for script approval. Conspiracy theorists had nothing on them.

Michonne got up and walked to the kitchen - Rick followed. He walked up behind her while she stood at the sink and put his arms around her.

She didn't turn to face him, but her heart began to beat faster, her stomach fluttered and she felt overwhelmingly flushed. He moved her hair to the side and nuzzled his face into her neck.

"Michonne...are you okay?" He asked with a hoarse whisper.

"I'm fine," she curtly answered without turning to face him.

"Well," he kissed her neck – she felt a warm flush, "you haven't looked at me all night. Seems like you're mad at me about earlier…I should've controlled myself better," he stroked her shoulder, "...I'm really sorry."

"No you're not—let's not start lying to each other now," she snapped.

He backed away from her and ran his hand over his forehead. He knew her well enough to know when she was aggravated. She was a fighter but she was also very vulnerable. Was this anger, nervousness, fear…what?

"Okay—I'm not sorry," he walked forward, taking hold of her shoulders, making his insistence that she face him clear. He looked her in the eyes…

"You are so beautiful. Your body is incredible. I haven't ever had the chance to just appreciate you. When I touched you earlier…your skin is so soft and god you smell so good…better than anythan I've ever smelled...we haven't made love since the day before the battle with Negan…so _No_ , I'm not sorry," with a furrowed brow and a small smile, he leaned into her and kissed her lips – she backed away, bumping into the sink…

"Rick…we can't," her words surprised her more than they did him. The only thing she'd thought about, besides her children, had been him. She longed for him in a way that she'd never longed for anyone. It had only been hours, but her desire for him equaled a lifetime of longing. But, there was that thing…that word… _infidelity_.

"What's goin' on, Michonne?" Not attempting to hide his frustration.

"You're married," she hurled before she could stop herself, "you're married...and I'm with him. I don't know what that means for us."

"I'm not gonna pretend like I'm not married…and I do respect that…but it doesn't change how I feel about you. I want you, baby…"

"And her…?" She interrupted.

"I don't know how to answer that…" he replied honestly, "…What about him? It's pretty clear that he wants you…I don't think that even that Maggie being here will stop him…" he chuckled with a grimace.

"I don't need _Maggie_ to stop anything, Rick…I have no intention of doing anything with Mike…" Her nerve finally found - enough to voice what she couldn't stop thinking about all day, "what about you…and her?" There was no mixing of her words, they came through loud and clear. She asked the question that he preferred to avoid.

"Is that what this is about?" becoming aware of the real reason behind her hesitation.

"No, it's…" he placed his finger over her mouth, both rubbing it and stopping her mid denial…

"I don't know what's goin' on, but I promise I won't be doing anythang with her…"

She released the breath that she didn't realize she'd been holding. A small smile gracing her face.

"…I'm not gonna cheat on you," he assured before attempting to kiss her again. She complied momentarily before pulling away.

"Do you think that we were together in Alexandria…are together…just out of need? Would we even be together in this world? Could we be together in this world? I mean…your wife looks nothing like me, and you look nothing like Mike. Would we be together…ever, if the world hadn't ended?"

The question took Rick by surprise, so much so that he had to gather his thoughts and step back. Before he could respond to the inquiry that he had not posed to himself, he needed to consider the totality of the question. This was something that she had obviously put thought into.

"I don't know," he said honestly, "I think that people get together for all sorts'a reasons. Lori and I got together because we grew up together. She was all I knew and I was all she knew. Maybe you and Mike got together because you met and he was familiar. But I think that what we have is just as special…"

He took the short lull in his explanation to place a chaste kiss on her lips…

"…I just know that you and I should be together…and I don't care about all the other stuff."

Almost as if she had been holding her breath…again…waiting for him to put into words her own feelings; she turned around and grabbed him.

"Rick, I need you so much baby. All I could think about was you with her. It's so stupid. We got the whole world back and—"

"And all you could think about was us," he finished her statement.

"Yeah…and the kids. I want Carl, Judith…along with Andre…I miss my babies, Rick," he took ahold of her and kissed her cheek.

"Me too…but we'll figure it out."

"So where does that leave us?" She asked into his into his cheek.

"I don't know. I know that I want to be with you. I won't be with her…in _that_ way. And…I hope you won't…"

"I won't," she interrupted with her promise of fidelity.

"Let's come up with some kinda plan before we get interrupted again," Daryl shouted from the living room.

x-x-x-x-x-x

"Jacqui…wow, I just remembered," Carol recalled as they began to recant their new and old memories.

"Who's Jacqui?" Michonne inquired, sitting closer to Rick on her coach as he kept his hands on her knee. He kissed her cheek as Carol answered the question.

"She was with us at the camp site after everything first happened. She died…by choice…at the CDC. There were lots of times that I wished I'd made the same decision she did…just end it on my own terms instead of letting the fates have their way with me…" _like how I wanted that Savior to just kill me – before Morgan stepped in and stopped him._

"…Anyway, she's the Executive Director of the shelter that I work at…I guess it really is a small world."

"Kinda like when I ran into Sasha," Michonne said smiling at the thought of Sasha and the little crush that Andre has on her.

"Yeah," Maggie was again thinking about Glenn.

"I wonder how many other people we've come across…" Carol said looking at her friends.

"I crossed paths with Andrea a couple of times at the courthouse. Didn't give it any thought until now. Wonder if we'd be friends in this world..." she postulated as sadness began to once again permeate the room. It would be impossible to survive any of what was going on if they started down the path of talking about every friend they'd lost.

"One of the guys that came after us in the clearing…I think I arrested him a few years ago," Rick remembered.

"Did anybody ever run into Negan or the governor? I'd like to find them and put a bullet into their head…" Maggie said, only half joking. Her friends looked at her and smiled.

"Yeah," Daryl agreed, "I'd be fine with that."

x-x-x-x-x-x

They left Michonne and Mike's apartment. Rick was quiet. Both Carol and Daryl could see the wheels turning in his brain.

"She's gonna be alright Rick," Carol assured him. Rick nodded and didn't speak. They got back to the squad car before Rick spoke…

"I'm not the Rick that used to live here. I'm not the Rick who always tried to do the right thing—not sure where that leaves me in this world. I kill first—I don't ask questions. I don't sit back and let anyone mess with _Mine_ anymore…"

He leaned on the door of his car, staring down at his gun, "…I'm not a good guy anymore. I've murdered people that deserved it, and probably some that should'a had some kinda due process. I murdered Pete without a second thought…and you both know it's not just because he was an asshole or what he did to Reg…"

He looked Carol in the eyes. Neither she nor Daryl spoke. They'd all done some unspeakable things in the other world. In this world they would certainly be considered murderers. All three survivors standing there knew this truth; none voiced all the ramifications of this truth.

"… Morgan told me that there is _no_ right, that there's just the wrong that doesn't pull you down – _he adjusted his belt and holster_ \- I know what's right and what's wrong—but the only thing that I wanna do right now is put a bullet through Mike Anthony's skull…and I can't honestly say that it's a wrong that would pull me down." He looked at his friends, neither of whom was shocked by his words…

"…There's no doubt in my mind that it's wrong. Where does that leave me? An Interim Section Chief sworn to uphold the law…with a family…who's standing here struggling with whether or not to go back to that apartment and murder a man…simply for loving a woman that I want…the woman who is my true wife…just not in this world," he winced mid-rant.

He cocked his head, ran his hands through his hair and did his best to chuckle nonchalantly, as if he wasn't completely serious about what he'd just confessed…"C'mon, let me get ya'll back to your cars."

x-x-x-x

"Do you want anything in particular for dinner?" Lori asked of her husband.

Rick had gotten home about an hour earlier and hadn't said much. He sat quietly on the couch and languished in his own world. His behavior was definitely something new, but Lori assumed that he was still not feeling well. He did not respond to her question.

"Rick," she said walking closer to him. She touched his shoulder.

"Rick, I asked if you want anything in particular for dinner."

"Uh, no thank you," he replied not looking at her.

"Okay," she said touching his forehead, "you still don't feel warm, but you do seem like you're coming down with something."

"Yeah," he agreed, "I think I'll just rest here for a while."

He had mixed feelings. He wanted to engage in a conversation with the woman that he once loved and was married to, but it was still difficult to look at her. So much had changed. Everything that he told Carol and Daryl was the truth, but the larger truth that he didn't share was that he did have feelings for Lori Grimes.

He nearly lost his mind - _I_ _did_ _lose my mind_ \- when she died. It wasn't just the guilt over how he'd treated her in her last months of life; it was because he still loved her. He was angry with her, but he did still love her. Talking to her, getting to know her again, would make an almost untenable situation worse.

"Yeah, I will. For now I think I'll just stay here."

He also didn't disclose to his friends, or Michonne, that he and Lori had been trying to have a baby for the last few months. She had written down on the calendar in their room that she was ovulating. He was curious.

"I'm a murderer not a cheater," he said with a chuckle.

"Did you say something, Rick?" She shouted from the kitchen.

"No, I was just talking to myself," he responded.

"Okay, but you should just go lay in the bed if you're still not feeling well."

Lori brought him a plate of dinner later that evening and he stayed on the couch until he was sure his wife was sleep, and then he went to bed. It didn't surprise him when he woke up. He was still in this world. His wife's arms were splayed across his chest. He quickly got out of bed, got dressed, and went into Carl's room to give his son a kiss. He got to the office earlier than usual and did paperwork until it was time to leave and meet his other-world friends at the diner.

x-x-x-x

Merle was not happy about all the recent events. His brother's odd behavior was now affecting their business.

"I need'ta pick up a friend from the airport…I'll be back later…" Daryl again told his annoyed brother.

"You need to tell me what's goin' on Daryl…" he walked closer to his brother, "…all of a sudden you got people comin' in and outta here…and you're leavin' without tellin' me where you goin'…"

"We're brothers and partners," Daryl interrupted his brother's complaint, "I don't answer to you. It's a slow day, so I'm sure you can handle whatever comes up."

"That's not the point," Merle snapped.

"You're right, the point is that I ain't no kid…I'll be back." Daryl ended his mini confrontation with his brother and walked to the office to finish paperwork.

x-x-x-x

"No, of course I don't have a problem with her spending the night. I've just never heard you mention any of those people before," Mike said with a small smile, "I just figured that I knew most of the people that you know."

"Well, it's impossible for you to know everybody that I work with. I've known her through work for a long time."

"No problem babe."

Michonne and Maggie read Andre his bedtime story while Mike cleaned up the kitchen. Mike excused himself to bed as the two friends began chatting about some male celebrity that he'd never heard of. Michonne did not go to her bedroom until she was sure that Mike was sleep - she was out of the bed making breakfast before he arose.

Maggie and Michonne spent the day at the apartment until it was time to pick Andre up from school. Picking up the animated little boy, who was all too happy to share his day with both his mom and her friend, was refreshing and oddly normal.

There were so many things that the women didn't say; so many fears and regrets that neither expressed. They talked about the normality of the world…but not the loss of their friends, family or children – children that would never be born.

"Mommy…Miss Maggie, look at what we did today in class…"

After they dropped the excited six year old off at the sitter, Maggie and Michonne headed to Mel's Diner on the outskirts of town.

x-x-x-x

" _We should be landing in less than thirty minutes. The current temperature in Atlanta is eighty-seven degrees. On behalf of your flight crew, I'd like to thank you for flying with us today and wish you a wonderful stay in the City of the Braves."_

"Ma'am…please put your seat in the upright position," the determined flight attendant requested of her distracted passenger, "we'll be landing shortly."

Rosita was buried deep in her muddled mind. From the time she woke up in this reality she was plagued with a barrage of up-to-date events and ancient memories.

She had spent the entirety of her five hour flight staring out of the window; hovering over the ocean that she never expected to see again. Somewhere over the Pacific Ocean, she began her very personal journey through the five stages of death.

She'd denied her true feelings after Abe left her – then he died. Her denial mixed with anger, and then the anger took center stage. She was angry at everyone for not being angry enough.

The anger led to bargaining with whatever higher power still existed. Bargaining to let her get even with those who'd wronged her and her friends.

The depression set in somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean. Depression brought on by the loneliness she felt; knowing that she was all alone. She could no longer relate to the people in this unscathed world. She could never be _that_ Rosita Espinosa again. She'd done too much. She'd seen too much. It was a lonely place.

Acceptance was realized just prior to landing at the Atlanta airport. _This is my life._ _Whatever this is. I have to figure out what I'm gonna do._

The five hour airplane flight had done her the good that she didn't know she needed. She was anxious to see her friends.

 _Tara and Michonne told me that I needed to get it together. I needed to fight smart and not stupid._ She knew that hurt was consuming her and anger would be her downfall but letting go of it seemed impossible. She was too immersed in the anger.

"La ira dejada sin control la consumira' en tu alma," ( _Anger left_ _unchecked will eat away at your soul) Abuelita would always say._

She left the plane with her small carryon bag – followed the signs to Baggage Claim – then exited the sliding doors and entered into the warm Atlanta day. Carol and Daryl were waiting for her by the curb.

 _Guess I'm not really alone. Thank you God…_

x-x-x-x

Michonne and Maggie arrived at the diner shortly after the others. Rick waited in the parking lot for the ladies. He walked to the car and embraced both women and then interlaced fingers with his girlfriend as they walked to the entrance. They joined their friends at a large booth in the slightly secluded part of the establishment.

"What is it Carol?" Rosita inquired taking in her friend's sudden distraction while she looked out of the window.

Carol turned to the table and whispered to her friends…

"Jacqui Stone is heading in here…"

"Who's Jacqui Stone," Rosita asked.

"She's the woman who hired me to work at the shelter. She's actually my boss' boss…" the previously gray haired warrior explained, "…and she's with a man that looks familiar – _her eye brows shot up at her recollection_ \- that's Dr. Jenner…from the CDC…" she deadpanned.

Everyone at the table glanced, as nonchalantly as possible, in the direction of the entrance as the two individuals approached.

"I 'member him…that asshole tried ta' kill us," Daryl interjected as everyone continued their stare fest.

"He's the one who blew up the CDC?" Michonne asked, having heard various stories of how Rick and the others barely got out of the building before it went boom.

"Yeah, that's him," Rick added as Carol tried to slink down into her seat in hopes that Jacqui Stone would not notice her.

"Hopefully she doesn't see me. I really am not in the mood to try and play nice with anybody…other than you guys of course," she smirked, "it's weird that they even know each other."

Ms. Stone was a slightly above average height woman with dark chocolate skin, short hair and sharp focused brown eyes. Dr. Jenner was a tall middle aged man with a mix of brown and white hair, and a soft smile.

Almost as if saying the words made it happen – the doctor and the business owner entered the establishment, and without even stopping to allow the hostess to greet them, they walked directly to the booth where the group of survivors was seated. Carol sat up straight from her slumped down position and gave her best plastic smile as they approached…

"Hi, Jacqui…how are you?" she greeted as the newcomers came to a stop at the table.

"Carol…I'm good. It's nice to see you." Jacqui Stone replied as the doctor and the remaining survivors sat in silence during the somewhat awkward greeting.

"Funny seeing you here…um…let me introduce you to my friends…this is…"

"No need…" Jacqui interrupted. She looked over at Dr. Jenner and smiled before looking back at Carol. The doctor stepped closer to the table and offered his hand to Rick…

"It's good to see you again Rick…I'm glad to see that you survived…though I figured if anybody could, it would be you," Dr. Jenner smiled at Rick and the others at the table.

"Excuse me," Rick cocked his head, "You know who I am…who we are?" He motioned to his fellow survivors at the table.

"Yes, we do," the doctor smiled at Jacqui who kept her eyes focused on the group sitting in front of her, "We have some information for you…" he pulled a card from his billfold and placed it on the table, "Meet us at the address on that card tomorrow at noon and I believe most, if not all, of your questions will be answered."

With that, Ms. Stone and Dr. Jenner turned and left the group of survivors in stunned silence.

* * *

A/N: Thank you so much for reading. Please let me know what you think. Blessings :-)


	6. Chapter 6 - Hearing Zebras

**Author's Note: Just want to again thank everyone for reading this story and a huge *very humbled* Thank You for all the reviews. Good, bad, or indifferent-the reviews have truly kept me motivated. Hope you enjoy this chapter :-)**

* * *

 **Chapter 6 – Hearing Zebras**

The team sat silently and watched the two people who possibly had the answers to all their questions, exit the diner. They remained quiet. The feeling at the table ranged from curiosity to distrust. The waitress came by the table and briefly broke the silence with her offer of water.

"Does anybody have any idea what that was about?" Maggie voiced the otiose question that they all had, but of course none could answer.

"Well, I guess my theory about aliens is shot to hell." Carol offered with a light laugh. The others began an unexpected laugh fest that was brought on more from angst than it was joy. Rosita, who was not present the night before when the group came up with various conspiracy theories, one of which being an alien abduction, looked around the table at her friends; assuming that they had all temporarily lost their minds.

"Yeah, they don't look like no aliens to me," Daryl dryly stated.

"I have no idea what's going on, but if they have answers, then I think we need to go to this place - _Rick said picking up the card_ \- tomorrow and see what this is all about."

"What if it's some kinda trap or somethin'? Daryl asked.

"They're probably the ones that's been watchin' us." Maggie said looking around at the others.

"Maybe they are, but I don't know how since we've all been in different locations. If it's some kinda big conspiracy, then I think the only way we're gonna find the answers is if we go..." Michonne paused and looked around the table…

"…If they wanted to do something to us, I'm thinking that they could've done it at any time."

"Yeah. How did they know exactly where we all would be right at this moment?" Carol asked.

"They must've been followin' us. They waited until we were all together. Last night we weren't all together 'cuz Rosita wasn't here yet." Rick said. They took a moment to consider his words.

"We should meet up tomorrow before we go over there," Carol suggested.

"Let's do a little reconnaissance. We have the address, let's look it up and go over there…see what the place is. It's in Atlanta. Let's find out who owns it," the wary but determined leader informed.

"That's a good idea. It could be some kind 'a trap," Rosita agreed.

Rick and his team sat at the table for the next forty minutes laying out a plan that included figuring out who owned the building offices that they were requested to go to. Using their cell phones they also gathered as much information as they could on both Dr. Edwin Jenner and Jacqui Stone – amazed at how much information can be found on the internet just by simply putting in a person's name and other minimal statistics.

The searches garnered basic information; Edwin Jenner was a well-respected doctor, and Jacqui Stone was a well-respected business owner. Jenner had been married for fifteen years and his wife worked with him on various projects. Stone was previously a hospital administrator who took over as director of the _Women and Children First Domestic Violence Center_ two and a half years ago.

x-x-x-x-x

"Here are my keys Rosita. You can put your bags in the car," Michonne said as she handed the keys to her friend. Along with the other late afternoon discussions at the table, Michonne told Rosita that she could stay with her for the length of her stay in Atlanta.

"Thanks so much, Michonne," Rosita said while taking the keys. Both she and Maggie walked towards their friends red BMW 335I Coupe.

x-x-x

"So how is everything?" Daryl asked as he walked her to her car. Since they arrived in this new reality there had not been an opportunity for the two to really talk. He knew Carol's history better than anyone. The search for Sophia was what initially brought them together in their friendship but their past demons along with their desire to survive is what powered their friendship.

"Everything is good, Daryl," she responded. Then she answered the question that he was really asking…

"…Ed is still staying at his brothers and I haven't seen him. The truth is I'm not sure how I'm gonna handle it when I do see him… not sure what's going to keep me from slitting his throat," she laughed. Daryl looked at her with concern.

"Maybe it's time to change the locks and get a divorce attorney," he deadpanned.

"Yes…it's been that time for a long time. From what I can figure, based on some of the notes that I saw, she or I, or whatever, had been planning to divorce him. He lives with his brother and his girlfriend and doesn't even attempt to hide it."

"The guys an ass," Daryl said flatly. Carol laughed in agreement.

"What about you Daryl? What's your life like? I know you and Merle own your own garage. Do you have anybody special in your life?" she smiled with the sparkle in her eyes that never gave away her secrets.

x-x-x

Michonne walked with Rick to his car. He put his hand on her lower back as they walked. They had touched briefly when she and Maggie arrived at the diner, but not the intimate touch that he wanted -since the night before in her apartment.

"How was your night?" She asked, not sure that she wanted the answer...but sure that she _definitely_ wanted the answer…

"…I know it had to be strange," She stroked his arm as he looked her in the eyes and cocked his head. She could tell the wheels were turning

"It was fine. I spent most of the night on the couch and then left out early."

"Rick…" she said trying to get his attention. He was clearly avoiding something. She looked into the most beautiful blue eyes that she'd ever seen - the blue varied depending on his mood - right now they were a midnight ocean blue. He was frustrated and was holding something back.

There were times in the past - times when she couldn't read him. But even wearing this new body, with less scars and more brawn, he was readable. His eyes didn't change. The patterns in his irises were indicative of the warmth that she was drawn to - they truly were the window to his soul. His eyes said what he was reticent to verbalize.

"It was weird," he chuckled. She didn't.

"Weird, how?" she asked.

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't somewhat curious. She's the only woman that I knew for so many years...it's just weird. Maybe weird isn't the right word. It's...familiar,"

"I know. It's the same way with Mike." She looked at him - his mood change was obvious and instantaneous.

He cocked his head, which she knew was his usual way of showing not only a 'come again' stance, but also a defensive stance. He frowned and ran his hand over his face- all of which happened in mere seconds.

"Did _somethan_ happen?" Less of a question - more of an accusation.

"No, Rick, I told you nothing was gonna happen..."

She took in his demeanor before continuing, "Mike _is_ familiar...and he's a really good guy, but I'm not in love with him. I don't want sex just for the sake of sex. I never cheated on Mike, or any man I've been involved with. I committed myself to you, and you are the only one that I'm gonna give that to part of myself to..." she looked deeper into his eyes…

"...but, I understand...I know that you loved your wife. I remember how…despondent you were. You talked to her the same way I talked to Mike…"

"Michonne…" he interrupted.

"No, Rick, let me finish," she looked deeper into his eyes, "the difference is that I spent so long hating Mike for letting Andre die…I don't think I ever truly forgave him. I know that this Mike isn't the same one that gave up on life, but I can't completely forget it or forgive him…I have to make peace with it and with him…

She reached up to his hair and ran her hands through is tresses – much shorter than she was used to.

"…it's certainly not the only reason that I'm not gonna have sex with him, but it does make it easier that I'm not in love with him. But…you…you spent these last couple of years in a mix of love for her and guilt over her - blaming yourself for what happened. I know that's why it was so difficult for you to take off your wedding ring. I can't imagine how it feels to be there with her…"

"Michonne, I'm with you…I'm in love with you, not her,"

"I know that, but, I'm not stupid...I understand that there must be feelings there...I just don't want you to think that you have to hide them from me. This is a different place...but I'm the same, and you're the same. I'm with you…it's a promise I made, one that I'll always keep," she caressed his face.

x-x-x

"How are you doing? Really doing? "Maggie asked her friend.

"I'm fine, but I should be asking you that?" Rosita replied.

"Well, right now I'm the one askin' about you," Maggie retorted with a soft smile, "how is your life in Los Angeles? What do you do there?"

"I work at a veteran's facility. It's pretty big and handles everything from medical care to housing for veterans. Most of them are homeless, have some kinda mental illness, or both. I do a few things there. My official title is physical therapist, but I also help out in other departments...guess I'm kind of a jack of all trade's," she smiled, "...but master of none," they both giggled.

"You and I both know that's not true," Maggie said after her giggle, "I was always thankful that Glenn and Tara came across you and Abe. I'm very proud to know you." They looked at each other - warmth and sadness overtook them both.

"We never really got a chance to talk after everything that happened. I know you were still angry at Sasha, and Abraham. I hope you were able to make peace with it," Maggie interjected into the sudden air of sadness.

Rosita looked away from her friend and thought about her words. The resolutions that she'd made while flying over both the Pacific and the Atlantic oceans were clear. Yes—she had made peace with it.

"I think I have to let the anger go," Rosita responded honestly.

Maggie touched her arm and smiled...

"I'm glad," Rosita put her hand over Maggie's and smiled back.

"How are _you_?" She asked looking into her friends sad dark green eyes.

"I looked up where _this_ Glenn works and I drove over to the restaurant. I sat outside of the restaurant, like a regular stalker and watched him come in and out as he greeted customers and took care of business. I couldn't go in...I just couldn't. He looked so beautiful and so young. I guess being in the world we live in... _lived_ in, aged us all way beyond our actual age."

"Yeah," Rosita agreed.

x-x-x

He ran his hands over her face. She took his hand and kissed it. He looked in her eyes and could see the sincerity in her words.

"You're the most incredible person I've ever known. I won't keep anything from you," he promised.

"I trust you Rick…I always have. Even when I didn't like you, I still trusted you," he turned his head to the side and gave her a half smile while she began to laugh. He kissed her in the mouth while she laughed.

"We spent so much time trying to survive," he moved his face back from hers just slightly, "and even during the times when we could just be you and me, I don't know if I ever told you how much I love you. I do you know?"

"I know..."

"...I won't deny that I have feelings for her... and there is some...curiosity. I...I didn't, I won't. But..." he attempted to soften the grimace that was setting in.

"...I thought about it and what it would mean. I'm not sure how I feel about her...but I'm not confused about I feel about you, baby," he said the words as quick as he could just to make sure he could get them out before looking back into her brown oval spheres. Her expression didn't change.

"So...so what do you think?" he looked into her warm brown eyes - there was not the ire that he expected - there was understanding. _What_ _exactly should the expression be on the face of the woman you're in love with when you tell her that you've had thoughts, lingering thoughts, about sleeping with someone that's not her? What does that face look like?_

"I trust you…it's that simple and I'm glad you're being honest with me. We have a lot to figure out right now. I'm no more thrilled about you sleeping in the house with her than you are about me being with Mike. But we can't be afraid to be honest with each other."

He stepped closer to her and put his hands on her hips. She could smell his scent; it was different than she was used to. It was cologne she didn't recognize. Since they'd been together, the only scent that usually emanated from him was metallic sweat with a tinge of rotten meat - except in the mornings when he smelled of Irish Spring.

His smell was intoxicating. He moved closer and put his mouth to her ear.

"I miss you. I've missed you for the past few weeks...you've been so distant. After everything that happened, I didn't...I didn't want to ask. But...I need to be with you. I know what it means in this world -he kissed her neck before continuing- "...neither of us are single;" he kissed her neck again.

"I want to be together...not just for the sex. I miss our connection. I miss talking to you and touching you. I just miss being with you," she turned her face in time to catch his mouth and they tasted each other. He broke the kiss to whisper...

"I need to make love to you, Michonne," the warmth of her mouth encapsulated him. She was flustered.

x-x-x

"'Member when I told you about the Cherokee Rose," Daryl asked his friend.

"The trail of tears that the Cherokee mother's shed for their lost and dying children; the elders prayed for the mothers, and the next day a rose grew from where their tears had been shed…" Carol's eyes became blurry as the tears broke through…

"…The flower you gave me when I was sitting in the trailer…you said it bloomed for Sophia," She wiped a tear.

"It was after you told me that story that I knew…I knew the type of man that you are, the one that you try to hide."

"You have your Sophia back," he said. She smiled at him.

"Yes…I do," she quietly agreed.

"Well, you deserve the happiness." He looked her briefly in the eyes.

"Your kindness and optimism…it's why you're so special. You hide it well under all the grunts, grumbling, and grease, but I've never known anyone like you…" her gray eyes glistened.

"Whatever," he grunted.

"It's why I love you, Daryl. It's why I'll always love you. You're probably the best friend I've ever had…truly my friend…" she paused, "You're a special person."

"The only reason I asked about the rose," he began, uncomfortable with her words of adoration, "is because, even in this world…you need to know that I'm always gonna have your back. If that asshole ever touches you - _he stepped closer to her_ \- I'll kill him…I don't want you to kill him. I'm okay with going to jail if I have to, but you ain't."

x-x-x

They continued their passionate kiss. Her lips were softer than he remembered. After a few moments he stepped back and surveyed the parking lot. He could see Maggie and Rosita were having a conversation by Michonne's car. Daryl and Carol were speaking by Daryl's car; there didn't appear to be anyone else in the parking lot.

"We have to be careful in public…" his words quickly shedding a light on the new reality that they momentarily forgot. Making out in public was not something that they could do.

He looked back into the desire filled eyes of his lady love and stroked her face. Her eyes told a story that had many peaks and valleys; a story of longing, of confusion, of trepidation and hope. In her eyes he could see an entire story.

"I know what this means…but I don't care," he confessed.

"I _do_ care, Rick. I don't want _him_ to get hurt...and I don't want _her_ to get hurt...but I miss you. I miss you so much. l wanna make love to you, too."

He needed those words. He twirled two of her hanging locks around his index finger and lightly kissed her mouth again.

x-x-x

"Do you want me to go over there with you - Just to see him?" Rosita asked of the woman who appeared to become sadder as they stood there.

"I know that I can't handle having him look at me without any recognition. Looking at me like I'm a stranger; Michonne described how hurt she was when she saw the lack of recognition in Sasha's eyes."

Rosita nodded, understanding exactly what she meant.

"If you do want to go to the restaurant, to see him, you don't have to go alone, I'll go…" she looked around the parking lot at her friends from the post-apocalyptic world and then looked back at Maggie…

"…We would all go with you, Maggie," she took her friends hand and squeezed it…

"…It's been so long since I felt anywhere near close to good," she smiled as she saw a tear fall down Maggie's face, "…I didn't realize how much I needed to be with you all, and I don't know what kind of crazy bullshit that doctor is gonna tell us tomorrow. I'm just glad that we're not alone," the two friends embraced.

x-x-x

"I think I can offer you something better than a pallet on the floor, or the back of a van," he laughed - she swatted his arm.

"Hey, don't knock the van. I liked all the things we did in that van...you came up with some pretty good moves," she said seductively with an arched eyebrow, "between your hands and your mouth...I have no complaints," she softly kissed him - _Damn I love how quick you are to get aroused._

He gently backed away from her and again perused the parking lot while shaking off his growing excitement. He smiled.

She ran her hands over his face and smiled.

"Have I told you how much I love your face like this, baby?" she giggled caressing his jaw, "you were starting to look like a grandpa," she smiled placing her other hand on his jaw and giggled.

"Yeah, I guess I was," he gave her a half smile.

He ran his hand down her bare arms. His light smile quickly turned into a lustful gaze. No detective training was required to know what was on his mind. His eyes said it all.

"I want to be with you so bad. I hate the idea of you sleeping in a bed with him..."

"Rick, I told you…"

"I know what you told me, and I believe you. I know the kinda person you are, but it doesn't change how I feel. On paper you might be his and I might be hers, but the truth is - _he took he face into his hands_ \- we belong to each other, not them."

They both smiled. He kissed her cheek.

"I almost feel like I'll be cheating on you with you. You're just as beautiful as you are in our world, but here...uh...you're different," he reached out and ran his hands around her body touching from waste to hip and grabbing her rear end - he gave a not so slight squeeze.

"There's more of you for me to grab...and I can't wait to grab..."

"Are you calling me fat, Rick?" She interrupted swatting at his hand.

"Absolutely not," he squeezed her with a heavier hand, "this Michonne hasn't had to live in practical starvation mode for nearly three years. There's just a little more of everything for me to love...and I can promise you that I will," he lasciviously promised as she swatted at his hands again. He attempted to kiss her lips.

"If I get us a room, will you come?"

"Yes."

x-x-x

They were gathered by Michonne's car saying their good-byes. The heat of the summer Georgia day had been merciful enough to give them the opportunity to get reacquainted with each other in the open parking lot. They exchanged cell phone numbers, addresses and Rick created a safe word that he whispered into the ears of each of his friends – just in case someone was listening.

The one thing that they discovered was that they wouldn't be able to do much reconnaissance - they just had to let their instincts be their guide.

x-x-x

Maggie decided to spend another night at Michonne's. The three women spent the evening reliving their days in elementary school by having an old school pajama party. They spent the night fawning over Andre and avoiding any topic of true importance. It was a night away from death, murder, starvation and despair. They had a night of rom-com's and popcorn. Michonne slept on the floor in the living room with her friends. Carol had a similar night – only hers was spent with her daughter, pizza and homemade cookies.

Rick was uneasy. The feeling was much like when they went to Woodbury in the dark of night to rescue his friends – to Terminus for the chance at a new life - to the Savior outpost to ensure a better life; each mission never ended as he'd planned. He was uneasy. The unknown was his shadowy enemy. He spent the evening at the station doing as much research as possible on their hosts, the building owners, and everyone who worked with or had any personal connections with Dr. Jenner and Ms. Stone.

He did research until well past midnight. There was nothing. He turned over every stone. He enlisted a friend in the FBI to do a general search of his the two individuals – there was nothing.

"Somebody's hearing zebras," his friend Timothy Dowd chuckled over the phone.

"What?" Rick inquired. It was late and he was both tired and frustrated. He was not interested in any riddles or chides from his friend – FBI or not.

"If you hear hoof beats in Central Park, don't think zebras…sometimes the simplest explanation is the answer," Timothy laughed, "Dr. Jenner and Ms. Stone are room temperature white milk - they are two of the most boring people I've ever investigated."

"Okay…thanks Tim. I'll talk to you later."

x-x-x-x

The sun was high and the day was bright. It was a beautiful day – the kind of weather that everyone waits a full year to have; clear, no humidity, and a comfortable seventy-eight degrees - a beautiful day indeed.

It was eleven thirty when everyone arrived at the address listed on the card given to them by Dr. Jenner. The building was located in an industrial area of Atlanta. Michonne, Rosita and Maggie carpooled. Daryl picked Carol up and they rode together. The five arrived at the building at the same time. They saw that Rick was already there.

"What's wrong?" Daryl asked, noticing the look on his friends face. Rick got to the location an hour before everyone else. Tim may have been right – maybe he was hearing zebras – but the dead can come back to life - so he would never stop at the simplest explanation. He was no longer just a deputy or just a survivor – he was both. Most importantly, he was a leader. He would no longer be beat down or caught off guard.

"Nothin'," he replied to his friend as he approached, "Just checkin' this place out. I don't trust that doctor. Just keep your eyes open. We all need to stay alert," the others walked over to where Rick and Daryl were standing with their defensive stance.

Michonne walked closer to Rick just as they saw a white Escalade enter the parking lot. They watched the doctor park just a few stalls away from the group of apprehensive fighters. Both Dr. Jenner and Jacqui Stone exited the car.

x-x-x-x-x-x

The team followed Edwin and Jacqui into the building, down a long white corridor, and into a small office in the rear of the building. The office was non-descript with only a desk and a few chairs. There was a large machine that sat in the corner of the room. The machine was the only interesting item in the room.

"My wife Candace and I worked to try and find a cure and stop the outbreak. But it was more than that. As the situation worsened, many of my colleagues either fled the CDC or committed suicide," Dr. Jenner began his tale.

"When my wife was bitten, I changed course. I'd studied quantum physics for many years. Along with working to stop what we'd done, I, and a few others, had been working on a molecular displacement accelerator. In laymen's terms, it was our belief that this is a multi-dimensional universe…with our current dimension being just one of many," he looked at the confused faces staring back at him.

"After my wife's death, I spent the next sixty-three days completing the accelerator; along with trying to find a cure. The cure took a backseat once I accidentally tipped over a vial. The acidic fumes caused the lab to go into full decontamination mode, which destroyed the remaining specimen. I trained myself with some of the discarded military weapons that were left behind. I was gonna shoot myself in the head—then you guys came knocking," he looked at Rick – he saw a murderous look in the man's eyes. He looked away and continued…

"When I armed the building to explode, I also armed the accelerator. I didn't actually believe that it would work. Everything that I'd read, and the process that we followed to build it, led me to believe that it could work…but that was only on paper…"

"…After you guys left from the room, Jacqui and I sat close to each other and held hands. We heard the countdown. We saw a flash, and the next thing I knew I was waking up in bed with my wife…the same wife that I watched die - and then get reanimated. But she had no memory of anything; as far as she knew, none of it had ever happened…" Jacqui stepped closer to the doctor. The doctor looked at Rick…

"…When I told you that everyone is infected; I didn't tell you the whole truth…the truth is that the virus which became airborne and infected everyone, was created in the lab I worked in at the CDC…along with a lab in China and a lab in London. The scientist from the three labs all created the virus. 1/3 came from each. Then each part was sent to some secret place located somewhere in South America, and what was created is what ended the world. Somehow it escaped their lab," he stopped for a moment.

"The rest you know."

"I believed it was my duty to stop it from happening again. This isn't the same dimension, but they were on the same path as the one that I'd come from. So, I destroyed the 1/3 that came from the CDC - the virus can never be completed. Since no one here is aware of what the virus eventually became, no one asked questions when I purposely changed all the variances of our part…

…You and your group of friends were the last people that I saw before the building blew up and I woke up in bed with my wife, and for the last year three years I haven't been able to get you guys out of my mind."

Jacqui nodded her head in agreement, "I haven't been able to forget about you all either. She turned and looked Carol in her eyes…

"Carol, you were always so sweet…both you and T-Dogg." Jacqui smiled at the memory of her friend T-Dogg trying to pull her out of the building before it blew up.

"T-Dogg…his name is actually Theodore, was doing really well…but…you – _she looked Carol in her eyes_ \- were still being abused by your husband. I talked to Edwin and he helped me come up with the money to take over the Domestic Violence Shelter that you frequented. I hired Joan and told her to offer you a job. I've kept tabs on you over the last few years…" she didn't continue the story - both she and Carol knew what happened – or in this case – what didn't happen. Carol worked for the shelter, but never moved away from Ed. Their current separation was his choice, not hers.

Jacqui looked away from a quiet Carol and faced the others…

"I looked up some of the other people from our group as well and everyone was doing really well. I kept my distance. I'm just so sorry that you all have lived that hell for the last three years. It just breaks my heart," she was overtaken by her sadness and empathy for them. She looked back to Edwin Jenner to continue recanting the circumstances that brought them to the present.

"…I found Jacqui and we realized that we had an opportunity to stop what eventually would happen. So I spent the next year making sure that my colleagues didn't breathe new life into the experiment that ended the world. While I was working on that I started working on some other things. Jacqui helped me to re-create the accelerator. I wasn't really sure what the machine could do until several months ago when I started it up…" he slowly looked back at Rick…

"I decided to try to locate you. I looked all over and found you in King County, Georgia," the doctor said, having found the courage to look in Rick's eyes…

"… I went into the sheriff's station and lifted one of your discarded coffee cups. Once I got your DNA I was able to input it to create a sort of zoning in device. I was able to tap into that DNA wherever it existed at that particular moment…

"… I put in your information…the information of Rick Grimes – and some other factors to ensure that we located the right Rick Grimes. I figured that if anyone had survived the eventual end of the world it would be you," Michonne stepped closer to Rick and interlaced their fingers…

"…I didn't realize it would pull you and anybody that was in vicinity of where you were. From what I've been able to figure out, it only pulled those of you that were together. I was scared that we may possibly pull in some of the dead…"

"It was our biggest concern," Jacqui interrupted. The doctor glanced over at his friend and smiled.

"It doesn't appear that dead brain matter or tissue can come through the accelerator," he continued.

"But why? Why do all of this?" Michonne asked.

"Mainly for answers; I had to know that what happened was really real. I had questions about what happened. It's been three years and…I needed to know if the world was able to rebound. I'm scared that someone will duplicate it… and the world will come to an end again…"

"…Jacqui is the only person that I have trusted with all of this. I haven't even shared any of this with my wife."

"Have you ever heard the words 'just because you can, doesn't mean you should'? You are the prime example of that," Michonne said harshly.

"Who's been watching us?" Carol asked.

"You—or at least _the you_ that exist in this dimension…" Doctor Jenner attempted to explain.

"… _The you_ that existed here in this dimension…they're still here. They went into something like a deep sleep and only their memories stayed behind. Periodically there are flutters and they awaken. That's when you have the sense of being watched. Your thoughts, feelings, emotions and memories came with you."

"Where are our bodies?" Rick asked.

"The swirling liquefied cocoon that took you from where you were, encapsulated your bodies. I don't actually know where they are, but my best estimation is that they are still encapsulated in a state of suspended animation—somewhere between these two dimensions. We knew when you all came through because the machine showed eight distinct heartbeats…" the doctor said pointing to the machine that sat in the room, "We…"

"Wait a minute," Rick interrupted, walking closer to the doctor, "what are you talking about? Did you say eight distinct heartbeats?"

"Yes," Edwin Jenner said looking at the women in the room apologetically, "the six of you and two distinct fetal heartbeats."

Before anyone in the room could absorb this new information, Maggie - who had remained silent throughout the doctor's recantation - with lightening speed, moved from the other side of the room and struck the doctor with so much force he stumbled back.

The sound of her hand forcefully contacting his face radiated off the walls of the small office.

"You son-of-a bitch!" She shouted. Daryl rushed over and took hold of her as she raised her hand to repeat the smack.

Jacqui moved quickly to the doctor – he was leaning over the desk that sat near the wall in the office. Daryl wrapped his arms around Maggie from the back.

"Let go of me Daryl so I can kill that asshole!" She shouted, her boiling rage not dissipating.

"We're sorry…we thought we were doing something good. We never intended to hurt you," Jacqui said as she leaned over to check her friend who was still recovering from the unexpected hit.

"Did you know you were having twins?" The doctor inquired – rising from his bent over position.

"I wasn't having twins," Maggie spat out, "before my husband was killed, we had a sonogram and there was one baby - one heartbeat."

Everyone turned in the direction of the other women in the room. Carol and Rosita looked at the inquiring eyes with quizzical stares. Michonne looked away.

x-x-x-x-x-x

"Why didn't you tell me?" His dark blue eyed stare only a little less murderous than the one he gave the doctor. He let go of her hand.

"When, Rick? When should I have told you?" She stood firm as he got directly in front of her.

"What?" his head cocked to the side, his temper beginning to flare.

"I wasn't sure until right before the battle with Negan. I thought things would go differently…and we'd have the time to talk…to talk about everything. But…then everything went wrong. After the fight in the guard tower…I didn't think…I figured that…that I'd lose it…"

"Sometimes, even the worst beating doesn't end a pregnancy…" Carol said in a state of distant reflection from the other side of the room; momentarily unaware that she'd spoken the words out loud, "…when the child is meant to be."

No one spoke. Daryl let go of Maggie and walked over to Carol - he touched her back. Rosita walked over to Maggie who was leaning over one of the chairs near the desk – silent and heartbroken.

Carol looked at Daryl with grief in her warm gray eyes. She ran her hand over his stubbly chin and smiled. All the conversations that they'd had passed between them. Carol's unplanned revelation momentarily distracted everyone in the room from the building tension between the couple.

Rick looked away from Carol and focused his stare back on Michonne…

"You just finished saying how we shouldn't lie to each other,"

"I didn't lie…"

"Don't you dare…a lie by omission is still a lie. Don't dare act like it's not," he took one step closer to her. She didn't move.

"…Were you planning on telling me?"

"Yes…"

"When? The fight happened over three weeks ago," his patience was all but gone.

"I thought I'd lost it, and…"

"Well, you didn't. And you knew you didn't lose it…for at least a week. Did you think I couldn't handle it? Did you think that I couldn't protect you or our kids?"

"I didn't say that…" she blurted out.

He put his hands on his hips and glared deeper into her eyes… "Then what are you saying?"

"I don't know, Rick…" her voice raised, just below a shout… "It's not a criticism of you or the kind of man you are. You're the best man I've ever known - _she touched his hand_ \- the strongest man I've ever known. I'm so in love with you that sometimes it scares me. The thought of living without you…I can't," her tears came with uninhibited force…

"…He was gonna make you cut off Carl's hand - _she mumbled as her tears poured_ \- that maniac was in our house…he held Judith. You were out trying to protect us and he was alone with our kids…he was alone with our kids…" she stopped and wiped her tears.

"Michonne…" he reached out and took her hand. She laid her head on his chest and wiped her tears.

"I'm sorry…I should've told you…but you had so much that you were dealing with. You blame yourself every time we lose someone. You hadn't been sleeping. I wasn't gonna let you carry this burden too," she whispered into his chest.

"Our baby wouldn't've been a burden," he took her hand and kissed her cheek.

The room was again silent. Rick and Michonne held onto each other. Rosita rubbed Maggie's back…

"Are you okay?" Rosita quietly asked of her friend.

"No. That baby was all I had left of Glenn…" she mournfully expressed the words that she'd avoided saying out loud to her friends.

Her words, though said in a somber whisper, were heard by all. Dr. Edwin Jenner and Jacqui Stone watched while the individuals in the room - who were in the midst of their own private sorrow – walked over to Maggie Green Rhee and placed their hands on various parts of her body – her cheeks, hands, back, shoulders.

Jacqui turned away from the unfolding scene in front of her. She moved closer to Dr. Jenner, who was also quietly watching the sad survivors, and whispered into his ear.

"Let's get the hell outta this damn place," Daryl said, his indignation directed towards Dr. Jenner.

"Yeah," Rick agreed – wiping Michonne's remaining tears and taking hold of Maggie's hand, "We'll work this out."

It was still early in the day, but the feeling of gloom in the room made it seem much later. In a matter of less than an hour, they'd found out why their reality had suddenly changed. They found out why they now had even less certainty about their future than in the world that Negan tried to rule.

"We need to tell them, Edwin," Jacqui quietly said into the doctor's ear.

"I know," he responded not looking away from the group.

Jacqui and Edwin walked closer to the group.

"Um…" the remorseful doctor began, "there's something that I need to tell you all."

They reluctantly looked at the doctor who currently wore a red mark in the shape of a handprint on his face. He and Jacqui walked slowly towards the group.

x-x-x

Doctor Jenner's words left the weary survivors dumfounded – perplexed – truly confused. They walked out of the building and into the warm southern day. They had done their arguing, their crying and their lamenting. They now had to process this new information.

"It's a lot to think about," Carol said, breaking the silence as they reached the three vehicles.

"Not much to think about…seems pretty cut-and-dry ta me," Rick said the words and looked around at the faces of his friends. He looked into the eyes of his woman – of his love, and knew instantly that she didn't agree. They were not in agreement.

x-x-x-x-x

* * *

A/N: Thank you for reading. Let me know what you think.


	7. Chapter 7 - a Gift and a Curse

**Chapter 7 – A Gift and a Curse**

 _It was still early in the day, but the feeling of gloom in the room made it seem much later. In less than an hour, they'd found out why their reality had suddenly changed. They found out why they now had even less certainty about their future than in the world that Negan tried to rule._

 _"We need to tell them, Edwin," Jacqui quietly said into the doctor's ear._

 _"I know," he responded not looking away from the melancholy allies._

 _Jacqui and Edwin slowly walked closer to them._

 _"Um…" the remorseful doctor began, "there's something that I need to tell you all."_

 _They reluctantly looked at the doctor who currently wore a red mark in the shape of a handprint on his face._

" _You need to know that there's a chance that you can go back…if that's what you want."_

 _There was a gasp then silence. They looked around at each other. All had tears in their eyes – tears for their lost friends – tears for their unborn babies._

" _What do you mean we can go back?" Rick asked as the others stood in disbelief._

" _I haven't done this before, but if all of my calculations are correct, you will, for lack of a better term, leap out of this dimension back to where you were. You will probably remember everything that happened here…" he waited a moment before continuing, in hopes that the group of displaced voyagers were able to grasp what he was saying. He faced Rick…_

"… _You'll go back to the exact spot where you were…when you were encapsulated. It isn't a time machine, so you will have missed the amount of days that you were here…"_

 _The doctor took a moment to look at the other members of the group. He looked at Maggie with a slight smile and silent appeal for absolution…_

"… _The spirit, or mind, or whatever you want to call it, of the person that you inhabit right now, will rejoin their body…and you will rejoin yours. Your body, and baby, should be intact." He looked away from Maggie and back at the others._

" _The accelerator should be up and running soon…I don't think it'll take more than forty-eight hours."_

" _We really never meant to hurt any of you. We wanted to do something good," Jacqui said with a plea for forgiveness as she looked Carol in the eyes, "I'm…I'm really sorry." Edwin Jenner took her hand._

" _What are our chances of making it back…if we do this?" Daryl asked with disdain; ignoring Jacqui's apology. The mood in the room had again shifted. The tracker turned mechanic seemed to be the only member of their team able to both process the current situation. The others were still in shock. He glanced at his friends and family. His heart hurt for each of them._

" _I can't make promises, but I think the chances are good," he looked at Jacqui, "It never dawned on us that any of you would want to go back to that hell…" -he looked back at Daryl- "…but I think the chances are good."_

x-x-x-x-x

Doctor Jenner's words left them dumfounded, perplexed, and truly confused. They walked out of the building and into the warm southern day. They had done their arguing, their crying and their lamenting. They now had to process this new information.

"It's a lot to think about," Carol said, breaking the silence as they reached the three vehicles.

Being with Sophia had been a gift. Seeing how beautiful she turned out was something that Carol had never imagined. It was a dream that she tucked away long ago. But this was not her Sophia. Jenner's words only confirmed what she already knew. She had not verbalized it, but there was a distance that she felt. This Sophia was a beautiful replica of the child that she'd given birth to. She was, however, not that child. Her family was not in this world. Her family existed in a world where a tyrant mercilessly ruled, and the dead walked.

"Not much to think about…seems pretty cut-and-dry'ta me," Rick said the words and glanced at the faces of his friends. He looked into the eyes of his woman – of his love, and knew instantly that she didn't agree.

As he stepped closer to her, all of his worries and doubts hit him like an invisible bolt. What if she wouldn't leave? Was it even fair to expect her to leave? Their future in the world of Negan, the Saviors, intermittent bouts of starvation, and the walking dead, was uncertain at best. The odds of all of his remaining family members surviving the war weren't good. They'd already lost so many. They'd lost some of the strongest and most fierce people he'd ever known. He looked to her for optimism. He looked to her for stability. When he wanted to stop, when he wanted to give up, she was there. She gave him strength. In her eyes he saw love, forgiveness, and possibilities.

The sun was high in the sky as it beat down on Atlanta. The parking lot remained deserted, with the exception of their few vehicles. She raised her hand to block the suns unrelenting rays and watched him step closer. She recognized the look on his face – the look of concern. It was a lot of information to process. When a second chance isn't really a second chance; when a blessing is also a curse. How do you process the information?

"Can I talk to you for a second?" Rick asked, looking into her eyes.

"Sure," Michonne responded. She gave Maggie's shoulder a squeeze as she gazed slowly into the compassionate eyes of her friends. Rick took her hand and led her away from the small gathering.

"I'm _**so**_ sorry I didn't tell you about the baby," she told him as he stood in front of her. He stroked her face.

"I want our baby, Michonne. Our baby…Glenn and Maggie's baby…they represent the start of a new life. The beginning of somethin'," he kissed her cheek.

"I know what it means. There's nothin' but uncertainty in our world. But…" he lightly took her chin and lifted it. They looked each other in the eyes. Even in different bodies, the communication between the two fighters was strong – it didn't need to be verbalized.

"…I can't take on this fight without you. I need you."

"You can…and you will if you have to…" she unflinchingly stared back.

"I don't want to," he confessed with sincerity.

"I don't want you to either. The two of us standing together, fighting together, that's what I want…but…"

"Michonne, I don't belong in this world. This isn't my world…this isn't _our_ world," he implored.

"Rick…" she attempted to interject.

"I've been confused about a lot of things since we got here… - _he cocked his head to the side and looked deeper into her sad brown eyes_ \- revisiting old feelings; Lori, Shane, my career, my parents…everything. I spent most of last night at the station doing research on Jenner and Jacqui. But…it wasn't just that. I didn't wanna go home. It wasn't just her…it was Carl…"

"Rick, can we talk about this later?" she pleaded – attempting to back away from him.

"No…we need to talk about this now," he took a more firm grasp of her, "he's a sweet kid and I'm glad I got the chance to meet him…but he's not my son."

"Rick, I _**don't**_ want to talk about this right now," she attempted to break his grasp – knowing without a doubt what was about to be said.

"We have to talk about it now baby," he kissed her hand; "He's not my son. He's not our son… _our_ son is at home taking care of _our_ daughter…"

"…The only thing that I haven't been confused about since we got here is you…and them – _he pointed to the four lost souls standing less than fifty feet away_ – there's only certainty with you and them. From the moment we got here I knew I needed to be with you. Lori's not my wife…and Shane ain't my best friend. They belong to this Rick…not me…" he put his forehead onto hers and closed his eyes.

There was no way that he could finish what he needed to say if he was looking into her eyes. He couldn't look into her eyes and lie to her; it was even harder to look into her eyes and tell her truth that would most assuredly hurt her.

"This Carl is not my son…and…uh…this Andre…" he stopped as she pushed away from him.

She yanked her arm from his grasp – her hand made a quick and guttural contact with his cheek…

"Stop…" she snapped loudly.

The other four survivors heard as Michonne raised voice – only Rosita witnessed the slap. Daryl turned towards his two friends and began to walk in their direction. Carol grabbed his arm…

"Don't," she told him, "let them work it out." Carol and the others peered in the direction of their friends.

"I'm sorry, baby. I'm really sorry…" he took hold of her. She wriggled, attempting to break his hold, but he only held her tighter.

"…he's _her_ son," he whispered.

Rick shook his head as sharp pain emanated from his face, and regained his hold of her. He dropped his hand to her waist and held her in a tight hug. She struggled.

Michonne heard his words. She was strong – she was a fighter – but she couldn't fight this horrible truth. Her Andre had perished in the world that she called home. He died because a bunch of scientists, at the behest of their various governments, decided to play god.

"Rick, let me go!" She demanded as her anger and sadness boiled to its precipice.

"No. We don't lie to each other, and we don't sugar coat the truth. Our baby is inside your body… _ **your**_ body, _**not**_ this one; the body that I've made love to—the body that has scars and bruises—the body that I love. Our baby is waiting for us—just like our other two children…" he moved his hands up to her back. Her squirming slowly subsided.

"When I held him," she began quietly as she looked away from his stare, "his heart beat in sync with mines—just like it did when he was a baby," she looked down at his chest.

"I just don't want to talk about this right now," she could no longer hold back the tears.

"We have to. We have to talk about this. There's not a lot of time. We all need to make this decision together…" his heart was breaking for her. The pain in her eyes was almost more than he could bear. This woman had made his children her children. She'd stood beside him for better and for worse. She didn't hold her tongue when she thought he was wrong. And now she was being asked to do the unthinkable – walk away from her child again.

"Michonne," he lifted her chin and again captured her eyes; "I want our baby, and I want our children…but I won't leave you here. If you decide to stay, I'll stay too…"

"I can't ask you to do that," she mumbled.

"You're not askin'. I'm telling you that I won't leave you,"

"You know you can't stay, Rick. You just said we don't lie to each other, so don't start now," they regarded each other, "you have to leave…Judith and Carl…and everyone. You're the one who needs to lead," she said, barely above a whisper.

"We'll figure this out," he leaned down and gently kissed her lips.

She broke the kiss and turned around – he lessened his hold on her.

"I miss the kids so much…and I know…I know that this Andre isn't really my son. I know he's not. But it doesn't make it any less difficult to leave him. I want to see him grow up…to become a man…" she took in a deep breath and then exhaled.

"…I know he doesn't belong to me," said in a quiet confession, "he's beautiful and smart and funny…he's everything that _my_ Andre would've been…" she wiped her tears and Rick rubbed her back, "…if he hadn't died."

Rick took hold of her, pressing his chest into her back; his hands splayed just under her breasts. Her legs became weak and her tears unrelenting.

"I'm scared Rick. Being pregnant during this fight, it's a liability. My pregnancy with Andre was difficult…and I'm six years older now - _he moved her hair to the side and breathed into her neck_ \- I'm scared to bring a baby into that world," she wiped her eyes. He kissed her neck.

"I'm with you," he declared, "always…and I promise I'll take care of you and our children," he pressed his face into her neck, breathed in her aura, and then whispered…

"Our children will be okay…and our son is gonna be a real badass from the time he starts crawling," he chuckled and kissed her neck.

"How do you know it's a boy?" she sniffled.

"I just do," he turned her around and kissed her lips. She closed her eyes and took in his scent. He opened her mouth with his tongue. He could feel her reluctance but his mission was set. He pulled her closer and deepened their kiss. She put her arms around his back and stepped closer into him. Moments passed without words. She moaned into his mouth – he moaned into hers.

"I love you so much," he professed after breaking the kiss. Her eyes were still closed. He wiped her tears…

"Michonne…baby look at me," he instructed. She complied.

"I'm not going back that house…to the house where _this_ Rick, Lori and Carl live. Before I left this morning I told her that I'd be working on a case for the next few days. She knows that I work with the FBI from time to time…which means that lot's'a times I have to leave without notice…" he gazed into her questioning eyes.

"…I wasn't sure what Jenner was gonna tell us, but either way, I was suffocating in that house – _he ran his hands through his hair_ \- my home is with you…" he kissed her hand.

"…I'm gonna get a room out in Decatur, close to Daryl. I think we all need to stay close so that when Jenner tells us its time, we'll be ready," she looked away as he spoke. He stroked her face.

"I know you still have a lot to think about. I'll stand by you…no matter what your decision is. And I'll stay here with you if that's what you decide. We'll figure out how to make a life together," - _He looked out into the distance; the weight of the world again found its way onto his shoulders._

"But…but I have to make sure Maggie gets back to her body…to her baby. I owe Glenn that…at least that…" his words quickly turned to tears. She took his face into her hands and kissed his cheeks. He laid his head on her shoulder. He held her tight – she let out a breath as his body shook. She could feel his tears on her shoulder.

"I've got you baby," she stroked his hair.

"Ahem," Daryl cleared his throat. Michonne looked up and saw their friends standing there. Rick didn't turn around.

"We need to get the hell outta here. We've been spending too much time in parking lots."

"Yeah," Michonne agreed.

x-x-x-x-x

Rosita couldn't help but feel bad as she regarded the trepidation on the faces of her friends. With the exception of some light country music coming through the speakers, there was silence in the car. Everyone was deep in their own head – immersed in all consuming thoughts. Her thoughts, however, were clear and focused. The plane ride had given her the opportunity to work out issues. She had the time to confront her feelings about Abraham, Sasha, Spencer, and everyone else. That was her world. There was no trepidation. There was no doubt. Doctor Jenner's words gave her a renewed strength – but the others were conflicted. The others were torn in a way that she wasn't.

"Maggie," she said into the stilled and somber silence, "your father…Mr. Greene…is a really nice man," she reached over and squeezed her friends hand. Maggie smiled, her green eyes glistening. She lightly shook Rosita's hand before turning back towards the window. She watched the Georgia scenery as it passed by. She'd seen the same landscape countless times. Even in her wild teenage years, she always appreciated the charm of the countryside; but never more than right now. She took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. This would be the last time she'd ever see the tremendous beauty before her.

"… _Yeah daddy, it shouldn't be more than a couple'a days before we get this assignment wrapped up," she was barely able to look into the face of Herschel Greene as she continued her elaborate lie. Daryl, Rick and Rosita stood by without speaking. The two men fought their desire to embrace Herschel – to embrace the man who wore the face and body of their old friend – to look around the farm that they once considered their home. They remained silent and smiled cordially._

" _It sounds like an interesting assignment," Herschel said looking over to Rick, "I'm glad the school district is working with the sheriff's station to keep kids safe on this weekend trip." Rick nodded his head._

" _Well daddy…we'd better get going," Maggie said to her 'father' as she walked over to him. She put her arms around him – for the last time, "I love you daddy," she hugged him with all the strength she could muster. She fought her tears – he'd know something was amiss if he saw her cry._

" _You'll be back Monday right?" He laughed as he broke the embrace, "You act like you're going off to war." He smiled and looked over at the three strangers standing in his living room._

" _Hopefully the kids aren't_ _ **that**_ _bad," Herschel continued as he walked towards his visitors._

" _No…they're not," Rick said._

" _Good," Herschel extended his hand to Rick, "take care of my little girl."_

" _We will," he assured. Daryl turned and walked out of the front door._

Maggie continued to look at the passing Georgia landscape as the onslaught of both old and new memories overtook her.

"I could never remember what my last words to him were," she confessed into the quiet of the car as she stared out the window, "I just hoped it was something that let him know that I loved him…that it was something sweet. For so long, every time I closed my eyes and thought about him…I could only see him getting murdered…what the governor did to him…" she squeezed her eyes shut – Rosita rubbed her arm as she spoke to no one in particular.

"…I hated that after everything he was to me…everything that he was to so many people…that was the one memory that I couldn't shake," she wiped her face with a facial tissue, "Even if that man back there isn't really my father...hugging him, hearing him make the same corny jokes that I heard when I was little…and being able to say 'I love you'…those are the memories I'll have now…" _her smile was one of peaceful affirmation_ "…It's a gift...a blessing."

"Yeah," Daryl agreed from the front passenger seat. He'd barely said a word since they left Jenner's office and made their plan for the next two days. They dropped Carol off at home – to spend a final night with Sophia – before following Maggie to the farm. There was little doubt that all his friends, with the possible exception of Rosita, had mixed feelings about leaving. But he didn't. He'd made his peace with Merle. He'd made his peace with his father's abusive parenting techniques. He'd made peace with his past. He accepted the post-apocalyptic universe that they belonged to. There was nothing for him in this world – this old world. He was ready for the fight with the Saviors. He was ready to take his place and stand next to his friends and fight – maybe to the death. He was ready.

"I'm glad we had the chance to see him," Rick added. Like Daryl he hadn't been very talkative. His eyes were transfixed on tail lights and asphalt; his thoughts, however, were elsewhere. His thoughts never strayed far from her. She was his partner in battle. She was his co-parent – his wife without benefit of a certificate. She was the mother of his unborn child, _but what if you decide to stay here. I can't stay. You were right…I have to lead this fight. How can I leave you though? Can I leave you? I need to convince you to come. But I can't. It has to be your decision to leave. Fuck. You're wrong Maggie…this doesn't feel like a gift._

"What's the plan once we get to the motel?" Rosita asked with reticence into the quiet. The other three occupants of the car knew what she was asking.

It was a touchy subject. It was a subject that none of them wanted to talk about. _He_ was a subject that none of them wanted to talk about – not as a group. Their losses had been inconceivable. But the loss of _him_ – the loss of Glenn, was the one that marked a beginning, as well as an end. He was the one person that connected them all. They were together because of him; a family because of him. His loss had both driven and stalled them. She believed that seeing Glenn was what they all needed. Not just Maggie – they all needed to see him. It would be difficult, but difficult is what they did. Difficult is how they lived.

After Rick told them about the cash and the motel rooms, Rosita suggested that they go to the restaurant where Glenn worked. She watched their faces as they all retreated into their grief – pretending as if they hadn't heard her. Carol tactfully changed the subject, and then they left the parking lot. The drive to the farm had been quiet and somewhat stifling as the large elephant shared their space.

Moments passed as her question hung in the air. Maggie turned to face her friend.

"After we get checked into the hotel," Maggie breathed and smiled softly, "we all head over to the _Orange Duck Restaurant_ in College Park. They have a manager there named Glenn Rhee that I'd like to meet." Rosita returned the affectionate smile, squeezed her friends hand with the silent assurance that she wasn't alone.

x-x-x-x-x

Years ago someone coined the phrase 'ignorance is bliss' – but that had never been the case for Rick or any of his family members. Ignorance was far from bliss. Ignorance had been their enemy. Ignorance had led to the death of most of his family and friends. Ignorance was the nemesis of knowledge. Knowledge was power. And now they had knowledge – or at least as much knowledge of their current situation that their non-scientific brains could comprehend. They now knew that these bodies were not theirs. These lives were not theirs. They were – without permission – borrowing these vessels.

Given this knowledge – this information that took them out of the ignorant category – they all made the decision to do nothing that would adversely affect the life their 'double.'

Before they left the parking lot of Jenner's office Rick suggested that they keep a low profile. He knew that this Rick kept a private reserve of cash. He reasoned that since Lori was unaware of it, and the money was in no way factored into their living expenses, they would use that money until it was time to leave – cash only, no credit cards.

When they arrived at the Travelers Inn Motel, located far off the beaten trail in Decatur, Rick rented three rooms for the weekend. Existing with the constant threat of being killed by both the living and the dead had changed who they were. They could never again simply walk into a new place; they had to do some type of reconnaissance. The fully alert and leery bunch surveyed the area around the motel. It was a one story establishment and their rooms – 4, 5, and 6 – were adjacent to one another and faced the parking lot.

They knew that their presence in this world was not one of Negan's tricks, it wasn't a government conspiracy, and there were no aliens involved; but it didn't change their need to be continuously aware or their surroundings.

Rick and Daryl carried Maggie and Rosita's bags to the room that would be their home for the next two days.

"You okay?" Rick asked as he put down the suitcase.

"I'm fine Maggie responded," she looked around the very non-descript motel room, "I just wanna take a nap before we go to the restaurant."

"Me too," Rosita added.

"Why don't we head to the restaurant in a couple of hours," Rick recommended mid stride to the door.

The two men exited the room. When they reached the next door Rick stopped.

"Why don't you take this room and I'll get the one next door," Rick offered his friend and brother. Their silent communication not abating; the non-verbalized words were clear. Carol would stay in the room with Daryl so that Rick could stay with Michonne – if she arrived.

"All right," Daryl responded. Rick handed him the key and watched him enter the room.

The room was certainly nothing fancy, but it was clean and bright. Rick took off his shirt and for the next hour he flipped through the channels on the television – all the while fighting the urge to call or text her. _This has to be her decision._

It was early evening on a Saturday and probably every other place in Georgia was hopping with activity; unlike this small out-of-the-way area of Decatur. The area looked like a ghost town and there was almost an eerie silence. Through the silence he heard knocking coming from next-door. He pulled on his undershirt and hastily walked to the door. His excitement quickly turned to mild disappointment when he saw Carol. He was happy to see his friend - the epitome of a chameleon – but he was still disappointed.

"Hey Rick," she said with an exuberance that Rick was not accustomed to. That exuberance existed at one time but had long since gone and been replaced with the façade of exuberance.

"Hey Carol…I'm glad you made it," Rick responded, stepping onto the concrete walkway outside of his room just as Daryl opened the door.

"Hey you," she said to her friend standing in the doorway.

"You gonna stay here with me...like old times?" He mumbled.

"Sure," she hit his arm.

"Where's Rosita and Maggie?" Carol asked.

"They're in the room…probably takin' a nap," Rick answered. He felt a buzzing and reached into his pocket – taking out his phone. He turned his back to his friends, put the phone to his ear, and stepped a few feet away.

"I got a text from Rosita…about the restaurant," Carol said to Daryl, looking away from Rick. "I hope we're not making a mistake."

"Yeah…me too," Daryl concurred. As much as he wanted to see Glenn, he had still felt guilt. He had not completely reconciled his feeling of culpability in their friend's death.

"I think Rosita's right," she said, "I think we all need to see him…he really was the best of us…the best of humanity. That might not be our Glenn, but…seeing him alive…maybe it's something…" she stopped. She couldn't get emotional, not now. She could see in Daryl's face that he was conflicted, and in true Daryl fashion, he didn't want to deal with it. He didn't want to talk about it. And how could she ask him, or any of the others, to talk about it? She wasn't there. She didn't have to witness the brutality of their friends' deaths.

"Okay," Rick said as he turned to face his friends. He slid the phone back into his pocket.

"That was Jenner," he winced and absentmindedly ran his hands through his hair, "he got the machine ready faster than he thought…tomorrow night we leave."

"That's quick," Daryl said. Carol didn't respond.

"Yeah," Rick muttered, "He…um…gave me other information too…we can talk about it over dinner."

Their contemplation was cut short when they saw her pull into the motel parking lot. It wasn't until he saw her that Rick realized his doubts had temporarily taken a front seat in his head. He never doubted her love for him, but he did doubt her ability to walk away from this world – from the little six year boy that she loved so much. Now he would have to tell her that their time here would be even shorter than they thought.

"I knew she'd come," the morose tracker offered. Rick responded with a grin.

Carol left the two men and walked over to Michonne's car. She loved Rick and Daryl. There had never been two men she'd trusted more, but Michonne was the only one who could even begin to truly understand how she was feeling.

Michonne made the decision to spend the weekend with her friends – her family – because they needed to be together. She still wasn't ready to say good-bye to Andre - she wasn't sure if she could, but she needed to be with her family. Lying to Mike again felt horrible, but there was no other choice. Even the most hardened science fiction fan would have a hard time believing any of this. The truth was not an option - she had to lie.

Her stomach began to flutter and her heart beat faster when she pulled into the lot and saw Rick. The guilt and uncertainty that had assaulted her conscience on the drive to Decatur was gone. She parked and watched Carol approach. She was barely out of the car when her friend took hold of her. She closed the door with her foot as they embraced. They held each other.

They were mothers who had lost their children. They were mothers who would lose the same child twice. Michonne held on to Carol because she knew that her friend had already said her good-bye to her daughter. Carol held on to Michonne because she knew that her friend would have to say good-bye to her little boy even sooner than they initially thought.

Rick and Daryl didn't move. They watched the two mothers in silence. After several minutes the embrace ended. They smiled at one another and laughed. Michonne walked to the back of the car and removed a small suitcase from the trunk. She and Carol walked over to the men.

"Hi, baby," Rick said as he took the bag from her hand and gave her a quick kiss on the lips. She rubbed his face. She really did love the clean shaven look that he currently had.

"Hi," she smiled.

"Hey, 'Chonne," Daryl said to the woman who had not looked in his direction.

"Sorry, Dixon," she smiled, stepped away from Rick, and hugged Daryl. She mussed his hair while he grunted.

Carol looked at Rick with the knowing smirk that he knew quite well. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, but she wasn't sad. Somehow, at some point, he could see that his friend was at peace.

"I got the text from Rosita," Michonne said turning away from Daryl to face the others, "what time are we going to the restaurant?"

"In about an hour," Rick answered, not taking his eyes off of her. She was so beautiful. Doubt crept back in - _What_ _if she decides to stay?_

* * *

 _A/N: Thank you for any and all reviews...Blessings :-)_


	8. Chapter 8 - Inside Her Thoughts

**Chapter 8 - Inside Her Thoughts**

Time to say goodbye. Goodbye for a second time. Had she ever truly said goodbye to any of them? The answer was No. But she had to say goodbye this time. This time it would truly be goodbye. It would Not be 'see ya later.' It would be goodbye. She would never see _them_ again.

How could she tell Rick? How could she tell him that she couldn't leave; she couldn't leave her baby. She couldn't leave her little peanut. On the drive to the motel she couldn't help but be assaulted, chased and smothered by the memories of her past, and the dreams of an eventual future that would probably never be.

She wasn't sure how Carol would say goodbye to her daughter - but saying goodbye - that would be heartbreakingly painful.

x-x-x

When they left the lab, or was it an office building with a small little room pretending to be a lab? It didn't really matter. Their questions were answered. This was not their world. Parallel universe? Alternate reality? It didn't matter. This was not their world.

Rick, Daryl, and Rosita went to accompany Maggie back to the farm. Maggie would say goodbye to Hershel. Rick and Daryl would say goodbye to the man they both respected – though he would not know them. That was a goodbye she could not do. As much as she wanted to see him alive...smiling, that was a goodbye she couldn't do. It would be like when she saw Sasha. As difficult as it was to lose Sasha, it was almost more painful to look into her friends eyes and not see an iota of recollection. Sasha was her family, she cared deeply for her... _did I ever tell you that? I'm sure I never said it but I hope you knew how much you meant to me_.

She couldn't deal with seeing that same vacant look in Hershel's eyes. _Not again_. Kind eyes that would hold no memory of their shared history. The sweet unknowing smile reflected in Sasha's eyes sent miniscule daggers that pierced her heart. It hurt. Maybe there's only so much pain that one human heart can endure. Hershel's eyes would be the final hurt and pain crafted nail – permanently sealing her fate. Sealing the coffin where her heart would be entombed. _I can't do it. I couldn't do it. Not again. How much more can I take?_

x-x-x

"When are you going to be home so we can go to Chuck-E-Cheese? I want you to go with me and daddy," Andre chirped in his sweetest voice as his mother and father smiled at him.

"Mommy has to work Andre, remember? But I know that if she makes it back from her appointment early enough she'll join us." Mike informed his son. It was more than just information for his son, it was also an unstated request of his girlfriend to try and make it back in a timely manner.

"It'll probably be the rest of today, but if I'm able to finish sooner I promise I will," she leaned over and kissed her little boy on the temple and lightly squeezed his cheek. She could feel the warmth and tingle of tears bidding for release. _Is this goodbye? Damn it…you can't let them see you get upset. Stop it!_ _I don't know if I'll see you later my beautiful baby._

"You do what you gotta do babe. Your little peanut and I will be fine. We'll see you later on," Mike gave his girlfriend a smile and a subtly seductive wink. He stepped closer to her and kissed her on the cheek.

"You look so good babe...I can't wait for you to get home." He whispered in her ear while lightly kissing it. She couldn't help but get a certain rush of heat which she decided not to acknowledge.

She turned to face him and before she could speak he kissed her lips. She closed her eyes just for a moment, involuntarily is what she would tell anyone who happened to see the exchange. Moving her lips away and opening her eyes - she rubbed his cheek and smiled.

"I'll try and get this wrapped up as soon as possible. It may end up being a late night. I'll text you once I have a better idea of how it's going," she informed him while backing away from both his touch and his stare.

"Okay, bye mommy," Andre smiled and waved as he looked in his mother's direction - oblivious to his fathers flirtations. He turned back to the table to finish his peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Mike looked away from the woman in his life and faced his son, "hurry up and finish sweetheart," he rubbed his son's hair, "We'll get to Chuck-E-Cheese before Tommy and Maddie so we can get a table."

x-x-x

 _Conflicted_. Looking up at the apartment she shared with a man who loved her _**or at least a version of her**_ , and a little boy whom she adored, to drive towards a man who loved her and the friends whom she adored. There was no way to rationalize this feeling. There were no words in Webster's Dictionary or in any encyclopedia ever bound by man to explain this feeling. It was indescribable - unexplainable. It was a vast sea of confliction. An untenable situation.

"You're mine," she whispered to the empty space in her car. She loved him. She loved the smell of him. She loved his giggle. She loved his questions...his touch...his breath. She loved that little boy.

"How can I leave you?" Staring at the home that housed two very beautiful people… "But taking you away from her. I know it's wrong. Doesn't she deserve to have her man and her son? Who am I to take them from her?" She breathed deep and winced, "I didn't ask for any of this...I didn't ask to lose my son! I didn't ask to come here!" She shouted into the emptiness and bowed her head. The empty car gave no answer as she drove away from her Atlanta home.

x-x-x

All of the negative feelings that she'd had towards Mike when she landed in this _new old_ world - all of the disgust and anger, had slipped away. This would've been easier if she could've held onto those feelings...but they slipped away. They slipped away and what was left was love and respect. She knew that she was no longer in love with Mike, _but boy do I love you. You're an amazing father...an amazing man_. He had earned her respect. He'd take care of Andre and this Michonne. He wouldn't run away this time. He'd be the man that she always believed he was. He'd stand up and be the protector he was meant to be.

"I do love you Mike." It was a truth that she allowed to be verbally stated…breaking the silence in the car. "And even though _this_ Andre isn't truly my Andre, there's no possible way that I could love him anymore than I do. He has my heart, my mind and my spirit."

 _But Judith...and Carl_.

"Judith baby...you and Carl are mines too," she affirmed in a whisper. This was not a decision that she could easily make. She needed to be with _him_. She needed to be with the family that she gained in a world that may or may not exist any longer.

"None of this is right…fair. Guess no one ever said life was fair." She sarcastically mumbled while subconsciously pulling down her visor. She smiled at the reflection of a woman with newly re-twisted locs, tears in her brown eyes and red lipstick.

"Wow," she laughed, "MAC red. I didn't even realize I put it on," she informed her reflection. _Funny how easy it is to just fall right back into those norms. Did I ever put on lipstick after the world ended?_

"Why would I?" She shook her head and pushed the visor back into its resting place.

"I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do," she confessed to her uninhabited passenger seat as she squeezed the steering wheel.

"Maybe you no longer exist," she said with a slight glance towards the ceiling of her car. Her sight focused far beyond the metal and fabric which sat inches above her head. A conversation directed beyond the stars.

"Doesn't seem like you do... it seems like if you actually existed, then what happened wouldn't've happened," she blinked away the rising warmth and shook her head... "but if you do...Please help me," she implored. She could again feel the stinging warmth slowly encompass her face.

"Please tell me what to do. Please tell me what the right thing to do is..." she ran her hand over her forehead…

"...To have my world and her world upended. I know it's not fair to her, but it sure as hell wasn't fair to me..." she paused as her mind began to race in different directions; unable to process its final destination.

"Rick is...I love him so much. I need him...he needs me," she whispered, "How can I leave Rick alone...I can't leave him to fight by himself. I can't leave Carl and Judith without me. I'm the only mother that Judith has ever known and Carl has already lost one mother. But bringing another baby into that world..." she stopped.

"God...please help me," she pleaded. The sorrow was slowly turning into rage; the rage that comes from reconciling the unfairness that existed in the universe.

"If you still exist...please help me. Please help me because I don't know what to do. It's so unfair to bring another child into that world," The rage turned back into sorrow which was now palpable...

"...it's no fair...Please Help Me..." her body began to tremble…

"Rick will do everything he can to protect us but there's only so much that anybody can do. Maybe you exist in this world because you sure as hell don't exist in that one!" She spat with all the acrimony she'd held in for so long.

She squeezed the steering wheel as the tears that she was attempting to hold back burst through. Before she could say anything else, the tears built to a solemn cry - which turned to sobbing. She leaned over, closer to the wheel, slowed her speed, and sobbed. Wiping her face and her eyes as the blur clouded of her vision...she pulled over to the shoulder of the road.

The cars passed her. The drivers enjoyed the pleasantries of the bright Georgia afternoon; the occupants of the passing vehicles completely unaware that they had just passed a car whose driver was in crisis. A woman who was facing one of the worst choices a person could ever face. _I don't think anybody has ever faced anything like this before; had to contend with anything like this before. I can't remember ever feeling this alone._

She laughed to herself - how presumptuous her thought was. _People make difficult choices all the time._ She laughed again.

"This is a helluva lot harder than Sophie's choice. You only had to choose between two kids, not two families...two worlds." She mumbled while wiping her face with a sardonic laugh.

"Aww, Meryl Streep...what would you do this time?" She laughed again as she questioned the empty and lonely vehicle.

She reached into her purse and took out her handkerchief. She looked at the handkerchief and smiled, 'A lady should always have a handkerchief.' Her grandmother would say.

"A lady always keeps a handkerchief handy for when the world gives just a little bit more than we think we can handle..." she bemoaned as she wiped her face. The memory of her grandmother pulling her lips into a smile. The smile taking her to the thought of Rick again.

 _You said that you don't belong in this world. You're right...you don't.._ _._

"But I think that maybe I do..." she quietly voiced the continuation of her thought.

She wiped her face looked over her shoulder. She scanned the highway and then proceeded on her route. It took her another fifteen minutes to reach the motel. It was both the longest and shortest fifteen minutes she'd ever experienced. It was back and forth - push and pull. She would come to what she considered was her final decision, only to change her mind again. It was back and forth - push and pull. By the time she pulled into the lot at the Travelers Inn Motel, located far off the beaten trail in Decatur, and saw Rick, Carol and Daryl talking outside of the number five room - she had made her decision. No more back and forth. She wiped away the remaining tears as she smiled at them.

"It's the way it's gotta be..." her quiet resolve spoken to all the souls that rode that short distance with her.

Her stomach began to flutter and her heart beat faster when she parked in the lot and saw Rick. The guilt and uncertainty that had assaulted her conscience on the drive to Decatur was gone. She parked and watched Carol approach. She was barely out of the car when her friend took hold of her. She closed the door with her foot as they embraced. They held each other.

The hardest decision that a person can ever make - was made. _Please forgive me._

* * *

 _A/N: Thank you so very much for sticking with this story. Please let me know what you think._


	9. Chapter 9 - A Quiet Resolve

**A/N -** Happy New Year

* * *

 **Chapter 9 - A Quiet Resolve**

When Rosita exited the small restroom, she noticed Maggie flipping through the pages of an old diary. The pages were faintly yellowed but the dark blue cursive handwriting was crisp. One thing that the able-bodied survivor had learned during her life in the post- apocalyptic world was that not everything needed to be discussed. Some discussions were better left in ones own head. She would allow Maggie to have her own thoughts without benefit of discussion.

She strolled a few feet to her bag to retrieve the romance novel that she'd picked up at the airport - she quietly laughed to herself. None of her friends - not the ones in her previous life or the ones in her current life - would believe that she would ever read a sappy romance novel. It had always been her own private indulgence. She never talked about it. Everyone who looked at her saw someone who was tough. They all saw a tough no-nonsense young woman. _Even as a child, that was what everyone saw. Why ruin everyone's idea of who I am._

Abe was probably the only one who ever had any idea of her soft spot; her softness which would led her to pick up what some would consider a trashy romance novel.

Her life mirrored that of a real live Sarah Connor * _Terminator_.* Sarah Connor did not have time for romance. Sarah Connor did not have time for the mindless drivel of romance novels. Learn what you can from each man, and then move onto the next. No ties. No strings. Before the world ended she was a fighter, and when the world ended she was a fighter. There was no room for romantic indulgences. _There_ **was** _time for sex, but there wasn't time for romance_.

She looked over her shoulder at Maggie then back at the book... _I'll just keep you to myself._ She tucked the small novel further into her bag.

"Have you thought about what's gonna happen to them...I mean the people whose body we're in right now...once we leave?" Maggie had moved from sad to focused. Her question came as no surprise to Rosita; she had noticed that her friend had become more quietly introspective over the past hour.

"No. Honestly I hadn't thought about it," Rosita answered, watching the former Ms. Greene who was resting on the double bed closest to the door. She padded over to the opposite bed, sat, and faced her friend before continuing...

"Guess we _should_ think about it. I mean, I don't wanna ruin this Rosita's life. She has a pretty decent life. Not right to just screw her shit up," she paused and then continued while taking note of Maggie's body language...

"Rick said that he didn't wanna mess with the finances of this Rick and Lori, so he used the money that he knew wouldn't affect their lives..." she diverted her eyes from her companion for a moment and ran her hands over her pants legs, "I used her credit card to fly out here. It was a one-way ticket and it wasn't cheap," she released a slight sigh and looked away from Maggie, "I had no intention of going back. But...uh, she'll have to go back. She lives in California, not here. I hadn't actually thought it through." She let out another breath before continuing...

"Jenner and that Jacqui woman will have to explain shit to them. I hope they have to answer for they did..."

"We need to write them letters. More than just a simple note. We need to let them know who we are...and that we didn't mean to cause them any harm," Maggie spoke almost whimsically. Staring off into a space where questions can be asked, but answers are rarely given. Rosita was pretty sure that her current roommate had not heard a word she'd said.

"You're right. We should," Rosita agreed, not taking offense at the other brunette's lack of acknowledgement.

"I know what I wanna tell _this_ Maggie. I know what she should know..."

They heard voices outside of the room. Maggie got up and walked to the curtained windows that faced the parking lot.

"What is it?" Rosita asked as Maggie peered out the window.

"Michonne just got here," she smiled and continued to watch the scene unfold outside of her room.

"I knew she'd come...Rick must be relieved," Rosita speculated with a wisp of a smile.

Neither spoke for a few minutes. Both deep within their own heads; deciphering their private thoughts.

"I wonder if that means she's gonna leave with us..." Maggie moved away from the window after watching the others enter their respective rooms.

"How is she gonna leave that beautiful little boy...I wouldn't." Rosita said the words out loud before her brain could catch her mouth. The smile on Maggie's face quickly faded.

"I wouldn't either," Maggie's words of agreement surprising her friend. They looked at each other.

"Really?" Rosita asked with surprise while she watched Maggie sit back on the bed.

"She has the chance to live in this normal world and raise her son with his father that loves him...why wouldn't she?" It wasn't really a question she was posing, "that's what I would do...if I could."

The room was again enveloped in silence. Rosita broke the quiet by verbally expressing the thought that she'd had since the sleepover at Michonne's apartment. Little Andre Anthony spoken for nearly an hour about the nice teacher he'd met at the library...

"I hope that seeing Glen tonight gives you the peace that you need. Maybe some kind of...um...closure..." she stopped briefly and captured her friends eyes. Maggie smiled and nodded her head...

"...Before we leave...I'd like to see if we can figure out where Sasha lives," Maggie regarded her friend's face closely while she spoke, "I need to see her. There was a lot that I said to her after everything happened with Abe. I told her that we weren't friends. At the end I think she knew what I said was because I was pissed...it was coming from a place of anger. It wasn't true." She shook her head and morosely chuckled, "...I know that this Sasha isn't the same person...she isn't her...but I feel like I need to see her. I just need to see her."

x-x-x

Michonne walked ahead of Rick into the room. He followed closely behind and then closed the door. They had spent so much of their time on the road. So much of their time fighting against the living and the dead. He knew her movements. He knew her heart. Her optimism spurred him to greater heights. But he could not read her at this moment.

He watched her sit her small overnight bag on the bed; the double bed that sat closer to the restroom. She was quiet. Entrenched in an introspective moment.

"I'm glad to see you brought a bag with you." He walked closer to her and chuckled breaking the silence in the room. Not sure if she wanted to talk, sit, run or sleep - He just needed to break the ever growing tension in the room.

"I put the bag in my car right after we got here...before I went to visit Daryl. At the time I didn't know what was going on and I knew I wanted to keep a bag handy." She quietly stated matter-of-factly, unaware that her words were a subtle gut punch to him.

"Oh," he stood by the edge of the bed and watched her movements.

"Uh, how are Rosita and Maggie doing? How did Maggie do with seeing Hershel...and saying goodbye to him?" She inquired looking into his eyes, then shifted her gaze before he could answer.

 _Avoidance_. She was distant. Of the many elements present in the human psyche that he'd studied in law enforcement, reading body language was the most useful; hers said that she would prefer to avoid the discussion that they needed to have. He ran his hands through his hair before answering.

"She hasn't said much. I think she was sad, but...she's been pretty quiet. I think in a way it was somewhat cathartic for her to be able to say goodbye to him."

Michonne turned and walked towards the restroom before he finished re-counting their friends mood.

"I'm glad she had that opportunity..." quietly mumbled while she fiddled with items in her purse. Rick walked up behind her and lightly touched her lower back. She remained still and breathed deep. He lightly stroked her back. She stopped the slow rummage of her purse and stood still. He stepped closer to her and wrapped his arms around her. She could feel his breath next to her right ear. They stood in silence while their heartbeats matched the others rhythm and began to beat in sync.

Everything in the universe screamed in his head that this is where she should stay.

He then willed himself to ask _**the**_ question..."What did you decide baby?" Lost in her thoughts and in the warmth of his body, his words had fallen on deaf ears. She breathed deeper but didn't speak.

He was afraid of what the answer would be. Afraid that she wouldn't go. Equally afraid that she would. He had spent the hours since finding out that she was pregnant, trying to wrap his mind around this untenable situation. He was just as scared to bring a baby into that world as she was.

He inhaled her. _God I need you. I know it's wrong and it's selfish, but I can't...I need you to go back with me. With us._ He held her tighter and breathed into her hair. _This is the complete and utter wrong time to be selfish, but I need you. Help me win this god forsaken war. Help me lead things when it's all over like you said you would_. He ran his hand along her flat stomach. _Our baby_. The stomach of a body that didn't hold their unborn child. A body that he didn't have intimate knowledge of.

She splayed her hands over his, snuggled her head back into him and closed her eyes. He moved her hair to the side and buried his face in the crook of her neck. _Our baby._

Reality is cruel. If she stayed in this world she would be safe. He wouldn't have her. He wouldn't have their child. But she would be safe. She would be with a man that wasn't him. _But you'll be safe. You'll be safe. You won't have to worry about possibly losing another child. Another son. I can't ask you to risk another child in that hell. This is wrong. I can't do this. I...I need to let you go. I have to._

He squeezed her tighter. He could feel the color in his face deepen.

"Michonne," she melted closer to him. Just hearing that southern drawl - the base in his voice that made her body tremble - freed her from her thoughts. She didn't reply as she relaxed in the comfort of his tight embrace.

"Michonne," he whispered again, "I know you've had a lot to think about baby..." her body stiffened. His heart skipped and their synchronized beat was momentarily thrown. He released his hold of her and stepped back. He gently turned her around. She looked into his eyes in search of what he needed to express. In his beautiful blue eyes - eyes that were wet with drying tears - she knew what he would say...

"Everything I said earlier was wrong. This isn't my home anymore...which is true...but it _**can**_ be yours..." he stroked and gently lifted her face to recapture her eyes, "I should'nt've tried to guilt you into leaving...or tried to convince you to leave. I never should've compared Carl and Andre. It was wrong," he let go of her face and ran his hand over his own... "I love you Michonne. I love you in a way that I didn't think was possible...you breathed life back into me...you awakened parts of me that I thought were long gone, even before the world ended," he nervously chuckled.

 _Just say it Rick...just say it..._ "You need to stay here, baby," he found the words that needed to be said. He managed a smile that couldn't cover the tears that followed.

"You have the chance to raise your little boy in a world that's not overrun with both dead and living monsters...and I want you to take it...You deserve every bit of happiness that you can find in _**this**_ world."

His body slightly dropped. He wiped his face and continued his attempt at a smile. She watched him without words. She walked closer to him and ran her fingers across his face feeling the wetness of the tears that remained.

"According to Rosita's text message we're leaving in about an hour, right?" She smiled and looked at him. He cocked his head to the side and watched her in confused silence. He gave her an affirmative nod.

"Will you lie down with me baby until we leave?" Without waiting for his response she took his hand and guided him to the bed. She sat on the bed, leaned down, and unbuckled her sandals. She sat up and waited for him to join her. He climbed onto the bed, laying his head on the pillow and reached for her. She scooted her back into his chest - her rear end landing on his crotch. Though he was somewhat dumbfounded by her behavior he slowly ran his hands from her stomach up to her breast. They lay in silence for only a few moments before she began to speak...

"I had a lot of thinking to do. A lot of thinking that I needed to do. From the time I found out ...No, actually, probably from the time we arrived here...I've been in a fog. What Jenner told us only made the fog thicker. Driving here I was overcome with confusion, sadness, regret...everything. I was wrapped in that same fog. But...I fought my way out of it. I fought my way out of it the same way I fought to stay alive when I was by myself for all that time. But I'm not by myself anymore..." she turned and faced him. He looked in her large brown eyes again to try and understand what she was telling him - to try and listen without judgment to what she was saying.

"I prayed on the way here. I don't know if it was prayer - maybe it was just an argument with a god that may or may not exist. I haven't even thought of praying since I lost Andre. Once he died I gave up on everything that I thought made me human. And I certainly gave up on god. But on the drive here...I remembered all the things I'd forgotten." She hesitated while gathering her thought - while thinking of the best way to expressed what she needed to say. His eyes were her peace. Even puffy, red, and wet, there was peace.

"None of this makes sense and I don't know why we're here," she continued, "maybe it was so we could find out faith...our strength...and our ability to forgive again. Maybe all of this was just to give us a chance to really understand who we are and the reason we fight. Maybe choosing something that you don't have to choose - that's the bigger reason..." he listened. He listened with more than his ears.

"...I made my decision on the drive here. Once all the fog cleared, the truth was right there. I guess it had always been right there." She stopped and read his face which was riddled with questions.

"I really love your face like this," she giggled. "When we get back from dinner I want you to make love to me...and let me make love to you. It'll be the first and last time that we make love to each other in these bodies." The breath that he'd been holding - he let out. It was almost impossible how quickly he became shrouded in sadness. There it was. She'd come to the same conclusion that he did. _Breathe Rick. This is right. This is the right choice. This is where she should be._

He failed in his attempt to relay happiness at her decision. It was the most forced and saddest smile she'd ever seen _._ Realizing that her words did not come out correctly she smiled and kissed his lips...

"Sorry baby, what I should've said was it'll be the first and _last_ time we make love to each other in these bodies...because the next time we make love to each other will be in our own bodies...in our own world...in the world where we belong..." she kissed his lips and let them linger before breaking the kiss and looking him in his eyes.

"Mich..." She put her fingers on his mouth not allowing him to continue. She kissed the corner of his mouth.

"I can't stay here Rick. This isn't my world. You, our family...that's my world. You're my destiny baby. I believe that now. Maybe...maybe we won't survive what's to come, but I believe that I was meant to stand with you...to do this with you..."

"Michonne...I...I can't..."

"Rick..." she cut him off, "It's not up to you. As much as you may think I should stay...I'm sorry to say that you're stuck with me." She tilted her head slightly and looked deeper into his eyes. He was too overcome with a mix of elation and fear to speak. He pulled her closer. All space that existed between them was no more. They both breathed deep while their heartbeats again found their synchronized rhythm.

He kissed her lips. He was getting used to these lipstick coated lips. It was a soft chaste kiss which quickly became laced with need - with desire. She opened her mouth and their tongues began a feverish dance that they'd danced many times. He pulled her closer. His arousal was instant - as was hers. She gently pulled away and opened her eyes. She smiled at the lust - nearly animalistic - written on his face. She turned around, spooning him _without his permission_ , before he had time to open his passion ladened eyes. "Just hold me until it's time for us to go. And when we get back later, I expect you to bring it mister." She nudged him gently in his chest with her elbow and giggled.

"Yeah, I think I can do that," he chuckled.

* * *

A/N: Thank you all so much for taking the time to read, follow, favorite and review this story. I am so very grateful and humbled. Let me know what you think. Blessings :-)


	10. Chapter 10 - Closure - Part 1

**Chapter 10 – Closure** **Part 1**

"Thank you. We'll be there at five o'clock."

The restaurant was located between two large terra-cotta brick buildings on a quiet and non-assuming street in College Park. The establishment could be easily overlooked by anyone who was not already aware of its existence. The unlit yellow sign with a mix of red and black letters spelling out ORANGE DUCK RESTAURANT, in both English and Mandarin, was the only aspect that distinguished the business from its adjoining neighbors. The outside of the restaurant was extremely unpretentious. To say that the dining establishment didn't have a high level of curb appeal would be a true understatement.

When the group of six entered the restaurant they were awestruck. The first thing they noted was the size. The outside appearance gave the appearance that the establishment would be cramped. It was a false impression. The restaurant turned out to be a voluminous gem hiding in plain sight within the small suburban town. The entry way led into a very sizable dining area; spacious and meticulously adorned with old world Eastern Oriental art. The intricate details that went into decorating the unassuming restaurant was impressive. The interior decorator most assuredly earned their pay.

The hostess seated them on the first floor at a large round table near the front of the crowded restaurant.

"Did you ask about his work hours?" Carol directed her question to Rosita once the hostess handed them their menu's and walked away.

"Yes," she answered while casually glancing at Maggie, "they said that he comes in at four o'clock...he's probably upstairs or in the back." She finished while directing her glance in the direction of the back where a lavish marble staircase was located. Before they could speak further, a very young and very peppy young waitress approached their table.

"Welcome to the Orange Duck Restaurant. My name is Lisa and I'll be your server this evening. May I get everyone started with something to drink?"

Lisa happily took the drink orders from everyone at the table. She couldn't help but notice the guarded and somewhat distant behavior of the patrons.

"Uh, is the manager, Glenn Rhee, in this evening?" Rick tactfully asked of the waitress before she took her leave.

She directed her attention to the man with the focused blue eyes and deeply southern vernacular.

"Yes. He _is_ here," she happily disclosed, "Do you know Mr. Rhee?"

"Well... not really. A friend of ours had dinner here and had nothin' but good things to say about the manager...um...Mr. Rhee. Our friend gave him very high marks. We'd like to meet the man who left such a good impression on our friend." He, along with the others, smiled and nodded in an effort to make the lie more believable.

"That's good to hear," she beamed, "He's in the back. I'll have to let him know so he can come out and speak to you all." She smiled at the group before heading towards the kitchen to get their water and varied beverages.

The table fell silent. Rosita clutched Maggie's hand and gave it a little shake. They retrieved their menus and began to peruse its many offerings.

 **Michonne to Mike:** _ **Hey…Having dinner with the team you met. Looks like it's gonna be a long night. We're gonna get rooms here in Decatur and hopefully wrap all this up by tomorrow evening. Kiss my little peanut. See you tomorrow. Love u babe.**_

"You sure you don't wanna see him...one last time?" One of her friends asked, though she really couldn't say who. Her mind had drifted.

Before leaving the motel she discussed her uncertainty. Her uncertainty regarding Andre; more specifically, saying goodbye to _this_ Andre. When Carol divulged her plans regarding Sophia, Michonne nearly reconsidered…

"Yes...I'm sure," she'd responded without looking up to see who voiced the inquiry. "I've already said my goodbye, and if I had to see him one more time...and say goodbye one more time... it might break me..." she giggled joylessly, "...and scare the heck out of him..." she glanced around the table at the sweet and concerned faces staring at her...

"He was smiling and eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich when I said goodbye...he was happy and beautiful. He's got two incredible parents that adore him and will protect him…I couldn't leave him in better hands if I tried. That's what I'll take with me." She wiped away the few tears that fell. Rick touched her face. He closed the space between them and kissed her cheek. A sudden flush of warmth and flutters shot through her body. She leaned closer and placed her lips on his. The kiss was soft and gentle before she whispered..."It's how its gotta be."

The message was sent. A simple and not overly wordy text message was the best way to handle this...this ending. The tiny white letters inside the blue box illuminated her phone. With wandering thoughts - back to their first date and their last kiss - she touched the highlighted letters. Her fingers slowly brushed the screen. " _Goodbye Mike,"_ she whispered.

She glanced up from her phone to see that her friends had ceased conversation. They'd taken note of her actions. Rick was sitting to her right at the large round table. Carol sat to her left; she smiled and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. They'd all gotten used to Carol's mock smile which she used for the unvetted. This smile was real; true empathy and understanding.

Michonne turned to her right - in his eyes was the spark that would light her way home. She felt an overwhelming since of strength, a since resolve. There was a smile on his face which didn't quite reach his clouded blue eyes as he watched her. She reached out and stroked his bare arm, took a deep breath - exhaled - and then looked around the table…

"The text was a good idea. At least he won't worry. Plus...the last thing I wanna do is ruin her relationship with him. I don't want him to doubt her fidelity. I can't leave in good conscience knowing that I've placed any kind of doubt in his head...in regards to her commitment to him...or…uh...to their child." She smiled, though her acknowledgment of Andre not being her child did not go unnoticed by her friends. She'd finally been able to say it out loud; say what everyone already knew. The words tasted almost bitter as they left her mouth, and they stung her ears when she heard them, but they were true. She wanted to cry, but she wouldn't. _Tonight is for Maggie...and all of us. This is about some semblance of closure._

She looked down at her phone as a new message came in. The message was short. It was simple and to the point.

 _ **Mike to Michonne: Okay baby. Have a good night. We'll see u tomorrow. Love u.**_

"Ya'll still have the feelin' of bein' watched...like before?" Daryl quietly inquired of his friends.

"The feeling is still there, but it's...different...almost feels sorta normal," Rosita voiced the reply that they were all thinking. The feeling of being watched had nearly paralyzed her when she awoke in the hotel room. It had been a horrible gnawing feeling. An uncomfortable sense of being constantly watched. Like having the gawking eyes of fifty men from a construction site follow her for the remainder of the day, into the night, and into the new day.

"Maybe since we know whose watching us, it's cut down on the strange and scary feeling that we all experienced. It's still a little…eerie, but not so scary," Michonne said.

"That's what I was thinking," Carol began, "it's almost like as soon as I knew the truth…all the weirdness and anxiety went away. Haven't felt it since we left that office earlier…"

"Yeah," Daryl concurred. The roller coaster of emotions continued to wreak havoc at the table as they all suddenly felt a certain amount of peace.

"I was telling Rosita that I think we need to write a letter to them…to ourselves…these people…you know what I mean," Maggie stammered slightly flustered.

"That's a good idea," Carol agreed smiling at her friend.

"Wonder how much they'll know…will they have our memories like we have theirs…"

"I hope not…" Rosita's no nonsense tone was palpable, "no one should have to live with our memories…not even us." The sad reality of their shared history, shared losses, shared horrors instantly shrouded the table. The thought of anyone in this new old world being able to sleep, much less function, with those memories rattling around in their brain was too much to reconcile. Sadness was rapidly overwriting their found peace.

"I see a lot of therapy in their future…" Carol said with the smallest of eye rolls causing a break in the tension. The comment, which was more morbid than comical, caused slow rolling laughter to break out at the table.

"How much do you think the _good_ doctor will tell them?" Michonne asked the contempt ladened question. The laughter trailed off. Rick promptly spoke…

"Probably only as much as he has to. Pretty sure he'd prefer they didn't remember _anything_ ," they all regarded the words and demeanor of their unelected leader as he attempted to answer the question. The answer could be nothing more than speculation.

"We need to stop by the drug store when we leave here and pick up some kinda stationery…drop the letters in the mail tomorrow before we leave…we can't trust them to be truthful." Maggie added.

"Yeah…I don't trust them assholes…" Daryl contentiously spat.

"What should we tell them? How much should we tell them?" Rosita posed the question to her dinner companions, but her eyes landed on Maggie. It was a quandary that none could readily answer. The question hung in the air while some drank their beverages and others ate some of the bread that Lisa had brought to the table.

"It's hard to say how much we should tell them," Michonne began, "I mean…if they don't have a memory of what we've been through, then telling them would just cause them…undue stress," she sighed, "but if we don't tell them and they do have memories…they'll probably think their crazy and end up being institutionalized." She regarded the faces of the others.

They all stopped. His voice was undeniable. Even from the opposite side of the dining hall his inflection was unmistakable. They all turned towards the voice. Glenn was speaking with one of the bus boys. He was smiling at the man and patting him on the back. Even from across the room his smile was radiant.

 _Oh my God you're so young, so healthy, and so strong._

His jet black hair was cut close around the sides. The top was longer and buzzed - held in place with some type of gel that added salon style spikes. His face was clean shaven – a baby face if there ever was one. He was wearing a tailored navy blue suit. It was a two-button jacket that the young manager began unbuttoning as he walked towards their table. He exuded confidence. They refocused back to Maggie Rhee.

"I can't…"

"It's okay. You're gonna be okay." Rosita held Maggie's hand. The light hand holding rapidly became a soft iron grip hand, holding Maggie in place. Daryl took hold of her shoulder as Maggie attempted to stand; she was about to bolt from the restaurant. Bolt from the man that wasn't her man. Bolt from the overarching reality of what was to come.

"Maggie it's okay, it's okay," Michonne said, then looked at both Rosita and Daryl, "if she can't do it, don't make her...let her go!" she demanded in a hushed tone.

"Nah," Daryl stated, "she needs to do this…she said…"

"I agree with Michonne," Carol interrupted, reaching on the other side of the temperamental tracker where Maggie was struggling to stand, "If she can't do it then we need to let her _go_."

Everyone's eyes, with the exception of Rick, were focused on Maggie.

 _The fifteen minute drive from the motel to the restaurant had been uneventful. Rick, Michonne and Rosita traveled in Michonne's car. The conversation was relaxed as jazz played quietly through the car speakers. They each shared short stories about their families. With the exception of Rosita expressing her unease at possibly seeing Sasha in the morning, the mood in the car remained surprisingly jovial - given the circumstances._

 _Daryl, Carol and Maggie traveled to the restaurant in Daryl's car. Between discussions about current television shows, music and some discussion about their 'doppelgängers' current professions, the mood remained light._

 _Carol had decided to leave the motel in the morning and pick Sophia up from Ed's house. She planned to have brunch with the young lady who had the face of her deceased child. Brunch had always been their favorite thing before the world ended; if Ed Peletier was still passed out from the night before._

 _After much cajoling, Carol managed to convince Daryl to join her and Sophia for brunch while the others attended the church service in Atlanta._

 _They actively avoided the conversation regarding the possible ramifications of Maggie's initial contact with Glenn._ How would Maggie handle seeing Glenn?

Maggie was the focus. Maggie was their concern. So what happened next came as a surprise to all…

Seeing and hearing Glenn had transported Rosita back to the clearing - _on her knees, watching her friends on their knees. Watching the man that she loved get murdered. Watching her friend get murdered. The blood that dripped from the bat.._. A chill ran down her spine. Her breathing became erratic. Her shoulders slumped as her face crumbled. Without any further warning she began to weep.

Michonne shifted her focus from Maggie to Rosita - _Oh my God she's hyperventilating. As panicked and anxious as she was earlier, I should've seen this coming_ \- she stood and rushed closer to Rosita. Daryl kept his hand on Maggie while also trying to console Rosita. Both women wept quietly. Michonne rubbed Rosita's back and held Maggie's hand.

The restaurant manager, Glenn Rhee, made his way to their table. He was mere feet away. Rick stood and walked towards the well-dressed manager. He halted his stride directly in front of him – blocking his view of the others at the table. He smiled but nearly lost his breath. The younger man was average height but shorter than Rick remembered. _Amazing how tall you appear when you're almost always in fight mode. Superheroes tend to look tall._ Rick smiled at the thought of Glenn Rhee superhero. Standing before him was a man who, in a different world, had been his friend and brother.

"Um, Mr. Rhee...it's a pleasure. My name is Rick Grimes...uh...Deputy Rick Grimes," he continued the reflective smile while extending his hand…

"Nice to meet you, Sir." They shook hands...

Mr. Rhee glanced at the table which the deputy was partially blocking. His view of the table's occupants wasn't completely visible, but the tension at the table was undeniable. The behavior and facial expressions of the people were…odd. The black woman with the dreadlocks and the white man who had a kind of redneck feel, seemed to be huddled around two women whose faces he could not see. He could vaguely make out harsh whispers. And though he couldn't clearly identify it; there was a faint sound of crying from at least one person at the table. Something was going on. The middle aged white woman with short chestnut hair appeared to be rising from her seated position. He focused back on the deputy before him.

"Lisa told me that one of your friends had visited our restaurant and said some good things… That's always nice to hear," he laughed in his most professional customer service laugh.

"Yeah...um, he said you're a good man to know," The deputy and leader gave a polite laugh and added more volume to his voice in hopes of covering the sounds emanating from the table.

While Rick attempted to keep Glenn involved in casual conversation his friends at the table were experiencing a myriad of emotions; painful flashbacks, happiness at hearing his voice, and sadness of knowing that they would never hear it again.

Maggie sat with her back to Glenn. He was so close that she could smell his cologne. It was cologne that she did not recognize. The Glenn from her world never had access to cologne. As odd as the feeling was, and as nonsensical as it seemed, the scent was him. Even without seeing his face - and smelling the artificial scent that covered him - his natural essence spoke to her. She could not control her emotions as the tears silently fell.

"It's nice to meet you Mr. Rhee. I'm Carol Peletier. This is a really nice place you have here." She held his hand with both of hers. For a moment she nearly fumbled.

Rick glanced at the table while Carol did her best to distract the manager whose eyes were clearly questioning what was going on the at table mere feet from where he stood. He was suddenly grateful that though they were seated near the front of the dining area, their table was off to the side near a wall. Some diners had begun to take note of the movements at the table, but utilized proper and considerate dining etiquette. There was no overt gawking; only unobtrusive side glances. A headache was thumping at the back of his skull – undoubtedly from the fierce battle raging in his head to stave off emotions that sought release while standing in front of his old 'friend.' _If I cry now…if I start blubbering…he'll take off like a bat outta hell and Maggie will never…none of them would ever get what they need. The closure._ He smiled as Carol picked up the metaphorical baton that he seemed to be dropping.

"I've been working with Deputy Grimes for a while now, and I can tell you that this is the nicest place we've eaten at," Carol continued with a soft laugh. She followed his eyes as they trailed over to where her friends were in various stages of distress. "You have to excuse our team for a moment…we're just finishing up a call…" she motioned to the table with the sparkle in her eyes that never gave away any secrets.

Glenn was aware that something was going on... "No problem. I…uh…I'll give you all a chance to order. I can stop back by a little later to…um…meet the rest of your team." He confirmed though somewhat doubtful, given the behavior of the deputy's dinner companions.

"Thank you…we'd really appreciate that," Rick assured.

He nodded at the two strangers standing before him…

"Yes…thanks so much," Carol returned the manager's small expectant smile. They watched him walk back towards the other side of the restaurant. Rick observed Carol - he was continually amazed by the chameleon like abilities she'd gained in 'their' world. If she did not want you to see what she thought and felt, then you would not. He lovingly stroked her shoulder before turning to the table.

 _Never thought this would end with weeping in a restaurant_

"I think we need to step outside for a few minutes...get some air," Michonne informed Rick, Carol and Daryl as she took the hands of both Rosita and Maggie and walked towards the exit.

Daryl didn't speak. Carol leaned over to Daryl and hugged him from behind. No one focused their attention on the reluctant good guy, but Daryl's need for absolution and closure was as strong as his friends. His guilt regarding both Abe and Glenn's death was an unspoken truth. Carol held him tightly. Rick observed the interaction between his two friends, then watched the women walk out of the restaurant.

o-o-o

It was still bright outside. The sun was more than an hour away from setting, but the scattering of faint clouds caused a yellow haze to settle over the city. The heat of the day had subsided and left a very comfortable evening in its wake. They walked out of the front door of the non-assuming eatery and walked closer to the parking lot before words were spoken into the low sounds of crying…

"Everything just…I don't know…just came back to me. I thought I was okay. I thought I'd worked through it. I'm so sorry Maggie," Rosita sorrowfully blurted out, "This wasn't about me. This wasn't…" Maggie grasped her hand and interrupted her words…

"You don't have to apologize," Maggie breathed, "This…this was about all of us. It's not just about me." She ended her words by enveloping her friend and current roommate into her arms. They sniffled into each other's shoulders. Michonne walked up to the women and wrapped her arms around them both.

An astute attorney has to have many tools in their toolbox. Understanding the varying nuances of human nature being as important to them as a wrench is to a plumber. Michonne had become successful at her craft by realizing that very fact. Learning how to work with both the criminal and the victim was her special skill. It was a skill that had served her well before the world ended, and one that served her well in the post-apocalyptic world. Tact and diplomacy were their own reward.

She marveled at the strength of her friends. They stood in front of her and attempted to reel in their emotions. They wiped away the tears. So many shared memories. She watched the scene - just one statement and only one question...

Michonne laid her hand on Maggie's upper back. "The three of us, along with Carol, are probably the strongest and most fierce women that exist in this world, dimension, planet…or whatever. We've survived things that would've crushed and destroyed most women, and men for that matter…but here we are. We can cry, and we can laugh, we can love...because we're standing. But…none of us can tell you what to do. None of us can tell you how to handle this. I only have one question," Maggie lifted her head and faced her no-nonsense friend.

The determined brown eyes locked onto the melancholy green, "Can you do this?"

Maggie smiled and without any more trepidation assured, "I can...yes I can. It was just…hard seeing him...and hearing him. I didn't realize..." she sighed deep as she stammered through her admission, "...that it would hit me like that...but I know I can do this. I have to do this." The three women embraced for a number of minutes.

"I'll be right back," Michonne said as she left the two fearless women and walked towards the parking lot. There were many things that she would miss, but she was most certainly going to miss this. _This_ \- the chatter of pedestrians as they walked along the sidewalk, the faint sound of a helicopter overhead, an emergency vehicle siren in the distance, and the missing smell of death that always hung in the air _. I'm really gonna miss the normality of a regular life._ She took a deep breath; the all-consuming need to take it all in was suddenly overwhelming. The press of the key fob signaled the beep – unlocking the door. She retrieved the facial tissue and rejoined her friends.

"You both ready?" She asked after handing both women tissue. Their response was a simple nod. They hugged.

"Okay then...let's get back in there...'cuz I don't know about you two, but I'm hungry as hell."

o-o-o-o

"This is _really_ good," Carol exclaimed as she reached to the middle of the table for more pad thai. The group was sharing the many varied and divers entrées that sat in the middle of the table. The restaurant offered a very eclectic selection of Chinese, Korean, Thai and Japanese dishes.

While the three women were outside, Daryl stepped away to have a cigarette and Carol returned a call to Sophia – leaving Rick to order for everyone.

"I agree," Michonne said glancing over a Rick, "you did pretty good, Interim Chief Grimes," she flirtatiously said with a wink. Momentarily forgetting their precarious situation, he dragged her chair closer to him; they leaned into each other and kissed. Rick opened his mouth and swiftly sucked in her bottom lip before she pulled away and giggled. She tapped his nose then shifted her attention back to their dinner companions.

"Uh…Clearly some of you…" he playfully scrutinized his dinner companions with crinkled eyes before landing his stare back on his woman, "think I'm just a country boy and don't have faith in my top notch dining abilities." He finished with a squeeze of her leg under the table.

"In our defense, Rick…we really don't have anything to go by," Rosita shrugged her shoulders and smiled before starting to laugh.

"Yeah. She's gotta' point man." Daryl agreed in a low grumble while he ate his sweet and sour sesame wings.

The conversation moved from chiding Rick, to learning more about their fellow fighters, survivors and friends.

"So, you just a food snob is what you sayin'"

"I'm not a food snob Dixon…I just have _taste_ ," Michonne shot a devilish smirk her friend's way.

"Which means she don't just eat anything that ain't movin'," Maggie added. They all casually glanced at their friend who had remained quiet through most of the dinner.

"Whatever ya'll," he smiled at his friends and very subtly squeezed Maggie's arm before peering back at Rosita and Michonne.

"Don't listen to them Daryl," Carol said with a glint in her eyes, "Nobody makes better smoked possum than you…"

"That's right," Rick agreed before they all burst out laughing. Daryl was only mildly amused.

"I just—"

"Ahem," Glenn Rhee cleared his throat. He was standing behind Maggie. They had been so immersed in their conversation and the simple pleasure of being with each other that none noticed him approach the table.

"I didn't want to disturb your dinner, but, unfortunately I'm gonna need to run out for a while. I wanted to make sure I stopped back by before I left." They were all frozen. Those that faced him – Rick, Michonne and Carol – smiled politely. The others became deathly silent.

"We appreciate that. Thank you." Rick found his voice.

Glenn returned the smiles directed at him, and smiled wider at the striking black woman sitting practically in the deputy's lap…

"You must be Mrs. Grimes?" he asked-stated. Never one to make assumptions, but it was pretty obvious. People having an affair don't openly kiss and touch in public – and certainly not at a table with other people. These two people were in love and in a relationship. Based on the wedding ring that he wore, she was clearly his wife.

"Um…uh…this isn't…" he stuttered, his blue eyes as wide as a deer in headlights.

"Uh…No…I'm not his wife…My name is Michelle Onette. I'm the…uh…lawyer on the team. It's a pleasure to meet you Mr. Rhee," She rambled, temporarily forgetting her ability to use either tact or diplomacy.

"Oh…my mistake. It's nice to meet you Ms. Onette," he very tactfully recovered; hoping his embarrassment didn't show on his face. Discretion was an unspoken rule for those who work in hospitality industries. Glenn was very good at what he did. He never judged. _Not my business. Don't ask, don't tell._

"Thank you," She calmed herself and was able to continue, "These are our other team members," she motioned to the others as she discretely scooted her chair closer to Carol, "You've already met Carol…that's Daryl Dixon…that's Rosita Espinosa…and that's Maggie Greene," Maggie was sitting with her back to him. She was the only one who didn't look up and give him the very conventional smile and nod.

"It's nice to meet you all," he promised, still recovering from the awkwardness he'd caused with his assumption.

"How long have you been a manager here?" Carol jumped in.

"Um…it's been about a year. I used to deliver pizzas," he smiled, "I was in business school, and delivering pizza's part time worked out perfect."

"This is a really nice place," Rosita said.

"Thank you. I'm very happy that your friend sent you our way," though he smiled, there was something strange about these people. There was something they were hiding. He couldn't put his finger on it, but there was _something._ The hair on the back of his neck was at full attention. There is _something._

"Both the food and the ambiance was great," Carol added.

"Good to hear. Hopefully you'll recommend us to your friends and colleagues…we also cater," he laughed.

"We'll keep that in mind," Rick finally spoke.

"Okay…great. Well, I'll let you get back to your dinner…" he needed to get away from them. The odd sense he was getting was becoming overwhelming. He started feeling uncomfortably overheated.

They watched her as she scooted her chair back and began to stand. Glenn backed up to give her room. She took her time rotating her body from the table to face him… _Whoosh_ \- _the drug store, the barn, the prison, the tunnel, Terminus, the church, their house in Alexandria_ \- It hit her suddenly. Rick and Daryl stood. For a moment it looked as if she'd pass out. Glenn took her hand.

"Are you okay, Miss?" He asked with genuine concern as he held her hand. She nodded and waved her hand at Daryl and Rick, indicating that she was okay.

"I'm…um…I'm fine…thank you," she held his hand tighter through her verbal teeter, "It was just a little…head rush," she smiled. Her friends watched in silence.

She looked into eyes that she could tell were not those of her love. This was not her Glenn. She searched the eyes of a man that was currently allowing her to hold his hand. There was no doubt that this was not her Glenn. But there was something. She could feel it. _There was something_.

"Oh…good," there was _something_ , "maybe you should…uh…sit back down," he said, growing somewhat uncomfortable in her unrelenting gaze.

"You're right," she giggled, "but…well…I told our friend that if we made it to the Orange Duck Restaurant, and we had the chance to meet you, that I'd give you a big hug for being such a great host," her smile covering the lie she told.

Without waiting for him to respond, she let go of his hand and wrapped her arms around him. He froze as she stepped into the hug. She pulled him closer and closed her eyes. His body felt the same, and even with the unknown fragrance that covered him…it was both him and not him – _I know you're not him, but thank you. Thanks for giving me love. For protecting me and letting me protect you. We made each other strong, and now…Now I'm gonna be strong for our baby. I didn't get to tell you goodbye…_ _ **goodbye my love**_ _._ The hug was probably about fifteen seconds longer than what would be considered 'respectable' for strangers in the dining hall of a crowded restaurant. She released him and stepped back.

"Thank you again Mr. Rhee," she smiled at him, though acutely aware of his mildly stunned demeanor.

"Uh…yeah…you're welcome," he didn't seem to be particularly bothered by her unsolicited display of affection, but he was stunned, "Um…thank you all again for coming in tonight," he directed to those at the table – the women had tears in their eyes and smattered on their face. He turned and walked towards the rear of the restaurant.

They watched him walk away…

Maggie directed her attention back to her friends who were all quite preclempt…

"I hope you saved me some of that curry shrimp, Carol," she lightheartedly grinned and winked at the others as she took her seat.

o-o-o-o

An air of restlessness followed the group out of the restaurant. There was a sense peace that seeing Glenn provided; a closure that seemed attainable. However, the uncertainty of the journey they would make in less than twenty four hours was ever-present.

"Let's go to a movie," Michonne suggested as they reached both vehicles.

"Fine, but I ain't seein' no romantic crap," Daryl grumbled, which caused an unfettered laugh from the other travelers.

"You pick the movie Dixon…I'm okay with anything," Michonne agreed mid laugh. She interlaced her fingers with Rick and he kissed her cheek.

After a heated discussion between Daryl and Rosita at the kiosk of one of the local multiplex theaters, an agreement was reached.

They concluded their night at a very modest bar located far off the highway at the end of a very dark street.

"…Pretty sure we're gonna run into Michael Myers or Jason…maybe even Norman Bates as soon as we start walking to the door," Rosita said once they were parked in the deserted parking lot.

"You might be right," Michonne agreed as they all laughed.

"Whatever," Daryl grumbled. He was familiar with the bar and convinced the others that if they wanted to go for drinks, this was the best place. They required privacy. The possibility of them being seen in public could cause problems for the ones they were leaving behind. They all knew that what happened at the restaurant couldn't happen again. Rosita sat between Rick and Michonne at the theater. They would not purposely ruin these people's lives.

"They got hard drinks and cold beer…and there ain't no damn pryin' eyes."

They entered the very dusky bar.

o-o-o-o

"She's intent on gettin' drunk," Rick said to the others as they watched their friend.

"Yeah, I can see that," Carol agreed, not taking her eyes off of Maggie.

"We need'ta let her get drunk if that's what she wants," Daryl addressed the overly concerned expressions that the others had.

"Yeah...maybe you're right." Rick cautiously agreed. Through their time together, Maggie had become more than just a friend or a random family member –she had become a sister. Watching his little sister in the grips of an unwinnable internal struggle was difficult for him. He ran his hands through his hair and furrowed his brow as he watched her walk towards them.

"Woo Hoo..." Maggie raised her drink in the air as she rejoined her compadres. She put her left hand on Carol's shoulder as she leaned into their unofficial huddle with a large smile...

"I know ya'll think I've lost it, but I ain't…" she finished her drink in four swallows, "…I did what I needed to do...and right now I need to get shitfaced drunk." She tightly grasped Carols shoulder.

"Maggie..." Michonne began, "Are...uh..." she stopped before continuing what would have been a short lecture about possibly not getting drunk since they had to be at church early in the morning. A momentary glimpse into the glassy green eyes of her friend and the words were lost. Maggie looked at her friends. They had all been through so much together. Through all their trials, they had learned how to communicate wordlessly. Verbalized words could be dangerous; a certain kind of telepathy was imperative. That skill had apparently followed them into this world.

"After tomorrow, I don't know how long it'll be before I have another drink. I'm gonna take care of myself, and I'm gonna make sure that when that damn war's over...mine's and Glenn's baby will be healthy and beautiful. But tonight..." she waved her hands in the air again and as she walked away, she turned and shouted, "and don't worry about church in the morning! That's one thing about having a daddy who drank…I know all the tricks for recovering from a hangover!" She shook her bottom to the song that was currently playing on the jukebox.

They watched her walk to the bar, put down her glass, and order another whiskey sour. Daryl walked up behind her and put money on the bar. She smiled and bumped him with her shoulder.

"I got your back," he assured.

"I know, and I got yours," she confirmed. Neither needed to elaborate. They had a bond that was born out of mutual respect, which led to mutual understanding. He ordered himself a beer, and the two friends sat at the bar and had a drink together.

Rick made sure not to drink, in order to give his friends the opportunity to enjoy their final night in this world. Michonne also declined to drink so that she could drive the other car. It had been a fun night to say the least. They had an opportunity to see the sides of each other that they would otherwise never know. It was what they all needed. The minutes passed quickly and one o'clock was upon them.

"I'll help you get Maggie's shoes off," Michonne told Rick as they laid their friend down on her bed. The couple had walked the younger woman to her room, one arm flung over Michonne's shoulders and the other over Rick's, while she slumped in the middle humming a tune that they couldn't quite make out.

"Okay, I got Rosita's," Carol told Daryl as they lay their other friend on her bed. She was not quite as out of it as Maggie, but was still unable to walk without assistance. The four standing friends could not help but l2augh at the women who were strong and capable, but at this moment incredibly drunk.

"I'm leaving the bottle of aspirin on the nightstand so that they can see it. I figure they'll both need it in the morning."

"Yeah," Daryl grunted.

Both Daryl and Rick stepped out of the room while Michonne and Carol proceeded to undress their friends. They took wet wash cloths and laid them across the foreheads of the women. They couldn't help but chuckle.

"It'll be interesting to see if they can actually get up in the morning," Michonne said as she watched Rosita mumble and Maggie hum.

"I'll stay with them for a while...check on them during the night...don't you worry," her half-smile giving credence to her words, "I've dealt with enough drunks in my life...they'll be fine." She walked closer to a stilled Michonne, " _You_ my dear have a deputy out there waiting for you...enjoy your night together and don't worry about them." She gave her a fairly rushed hug, and then shooed her to the door.

"This is _your_ night…enjoy," she said as Michonne stepped out of the door. Then focused back on her mumbling and humming friends. She smirked…

"You two are gonna have a humdinger of a headache in the morning…church should be fun," she laughed soundlessly and then walked to the bathroom to get more damp face towels for the ladies.

* * *

A/N: Thank you all so very much for reading, following, favoring and reviewing this story. You've kept me motivated to continue. I am extremely humbled and grateful. Let me know what you think of this update. Part 2 of this chapter will be up shortly. Blessings...


	11. Chapter 11- Closure - Part 2

**Chapter 11 – Closure Part 2**

 _Only about fifteen minutes had passed since she revealed her selfless decision, and he revealed his. He loved her enough to put her first—he could let her stay in this world because it meant she would be safe. She had accepted the truth of their current circumstances—this wasn't their world and she couldn't stay. They faced their truth. As heart wrenching as it was, it was their truth. After days of uncertainty and confusion they could finally take a moment to breathe; a moment to rest in each other's arms._

 _The soft kisses and gentle touches was what they craved. He pulled her close. He rested his hand on her breasts and closed his eyes in the comfort of feeling her heartbeat and listening to her soft breath._

 _Frantic knocking at the door brought them out of the few minutes of reverie and light slumber they were currently enjoying._

 _Rick jumped off of the bed, still slightly in his sleepy state. He stumbled over his boots. Michonne sat up instinctively reaching for her katana, before becoming alert and aware of her surroundings._

" _Hold on, hold on. I'm coming," he grumbled as he reached the door. He unlatched the lock that the deputy inside of him could only laugh at. It would never offer real security against someone who wanted in._

 _He opened the door and came face to the face with a perplexed Rosita Espinosa. She brushed by him entering the room - not waiting for an offer of entry._

" _What's, what's going on Rosita…what's wrong?" Michonne asked as she got off of the bed to join the two._

" _Nothing…it's just," she paused realizing that she was probably acting like a crazy woman, "I just need to know if you can get that FBI friend of yours to find out where Sasha lives…I just need to see her," Rick looked over at his woman then back to his friend…_

" _Okay, okay," he stammered, "I can give 'em a call."_

" _I just wanna see her. I just need to see her before we leave," she paced the small area of the room._

" _It's gonna have to be tonight or tomorrow," Rick informed both Michonne and Rosita, looking back into his friends eyes._

" _I got a call from Jenner a little while ago and he said we'll be leaving tomorrow evening."_

" _Wow. A lot sooner than we thought, huh," Michonne said with a query directed at Rick._

" _Yeah, I was gonna tell everybody about it over dinner," Rick informed._

" _All right then…it needs to be tonight or tomorrow," Rosita turned around. She ran her fingers through her long tresses while Michonne walked closer to Rick and interlaced her fingers into his. He kissed her lips. Rosita turned back around completely unconcerned with the two lovers in front of her._

" _Do you think you can do it, Rick?"_

" _Yeah, let me give my buddy a call," he offered while walking to the small nightstand which sat between the two beds in the room. He sat and unlocked the phone._

 _o-o-o-o_

 _"Yes. Sasha Williams—elementary school teacher at Jefferson Elementary School in Atlanta."_

 _"Is that it? You know anything else?"_

 _"African-American, early to mid-twenties, that's all I have..."_

 _"Okay, Rick. Give me about ten, fifteen minutes."_

 _"Thanks Tim. I owe you one."_

 _"You owe me two—but who's counting," he chuckled before disconnecting the call._

 _Rosita spent the next eleven minutes sharing and lamenting… "I did a lot of soul searching on my way to Atlanta. My grandmother taught me nearly every important lesson I ever learned. But, as I got older, I decided to go my own way. Take my own path. A path away from my family—away from my history."_

 _The levees that Rosita had built around her emotions for so long had completely broken. Rick and Michonne were unwittingly soaked in her verbal spill. She bemoaned her failed relationships and shared how important her relationship with Abe had been to her…_

" _He meant everything to me. He was all I had. Then there was Sasha. The only actual thing that I had in the world was taken by someone I considered a friend," Rick and Michonne became the confessional to her winded confession. She explained why she became so angry and didn't care about living; blamed herself for Olivia's death, along with 'the coward asshole Eugene' getting taken by Negan..._

 _Somehow she believed that the key to her moving on – past Abe, Olivia, Spencer, Eugene and Glenn – was Sasha._

"… _I told Sasha that 'just because we had sex with the same dead guy doesn't make us friends.' But I didn't mean it. I was just so damn mad. Really, I was mad at myself. Mad that they had found something that I didn't even realize I wanted. I had the chance to talk to her before she…before we lost her. And I think she knew. I think she knew that I didn't mean it. I just want to see her. I know it's not really her and I can't explain why….but, I just need to…"_

 _The buzzing phone interrupted Rosita's flowing confession. Rick grabbed the phone._

" _Tim…"_

" _Well…this one is nearly as boring as Stone and Jenner…but she's pretty cute," the FBI investigator chuckled to an unamused Rick, "you still married, right Grimes?" He chuckled some more._

" _You know this don't have nothin' to do with anything like that…"_

" _Actually," Timothy Dowd interrupted, "I have no idea what this inquiry of yours has to do with…but I've decided not to ask."_

" _Thanks. So what did you find out?" He asked, while both Rosita and Michonne watched his every move and facial expression._

" _I have her address, and from what I can see, I know where she'll be tomorrow morning."_

" _And where's that?"_

" _Just a quick look at her financials and I can see that every week she writes a check to the First African Methodist Episcopal Church in Atlanta. Looks like a regular contribution. My best guess is that tomorrow morning she can be found at that church. I checked it out and it looks like they have a morning service at ten o'clock a.m. and an evening service at six o'clock p.m.…"_

" _Thanks Tim. Let me have that address," he said opening the single drawer in the nightstand and retrieving a pen and hotel embossed pad." He took down the address._

" _Thanks again Tim. I'll give you a call. I owe you one…two."_

" _You're welcome. And hopefully you can clue me in on what all of this is about."_

" _Will do, thanks." He ended the call and looked at the women._

" _Guess we're going to church in the morning."_

o-o-o-o

Daryl and Rick stood outside of Maggie and Rosita's room. Daryl made sure that his two friends did not drink alone. Though his tolerance for alcohol consumption was much higher than the women, he had a serious buzz. It felt good. It made him feel 'normal.'

Rick watched the man who in this world was no more than a stranger, but in their world was one of the most important people in his life, "I'll wait for them. Why don't you go on and get some sleep. Tomorrow's gonna be a long day."

"Alright." Daryl was never one to say a bunch of words when one would do just fine. Rick patted him on the back as his friend left and within seconds was in his room.

 _The Duty of Love…his duty to take care of her…her duty to take care of him. It was their duty of love._

They'd fought their demons and rose up victorious. Every beat down was only a prelude to their standing stronger. When the two very broken survivors met, the idea of finding their soul mate was the last thing that either considered. They met in the middle of death - the middle of destruction. They met at the beginning of the first war that they would fight together. But somehow, amongst the ugly, they found beauty. After losing almost every person they'd ever known, they found each other. They found each other at a time when most had given up. Most in the world where the dead walked were content with sex; most had given up on love.

Rick waited patiently outside of the motel room. His thoughts were swirling like words in a high powered blender. They had been through so much. _She's been through so much_. This can't just be about need. It can't be just about sex or carnal desires. The desire he had for her was all-consuming. It was desire that needed to be tempered.

She exited the room and pulled the door slowly until she heard the soft click.

"Carol's gonna stay with them for a while," she informed him. He nodded. She took his hand and they strolled to their room with only stolen glances spoken between them.

He kissed her lips and gingerly moved his lips to her neck. They undressed the other in a slow, almost methodical manner. The desires which had consumed them both since arriving in this world was put on pause as they moved in slow motion. Their clothes fell to the floor and their once clothed bodies were now naked. They held one another. She rubbed his body – his muscles hard beneath her touch. He rubbed her skin – the softness beneath his touch. They were enraptured in the warmth of each other. He turned his head and captured her lips. As they opened their mouths they simultaneously held tighter – closing all space between them.

He wanted her. His body was aching for her. They hadn't had sex in weeks. They hadn't had real intimacy in weeks. The closeness that existed within their relationship had begun to slip away. The loss of friends and planning for the upcoming war created a rift. Recovery from their wounds furthered the gap. Not agreeing on how to handle their enemies turned the gap into a chasm.

But tonight, there was no chasm. There was no distance between them. He needed to make love to her. He needed her. She needed him. Their bodies were sweltering in the coolness of the air conditioned room. The pulsing through her body amassed with heat between her legs. She needed him to satiate the unbearable heat. His erection throbbed as it pressed against her stomach. It painfully begged for release.

Rick needed to be inside of her. He needed to be inside his woman. He needed to slide into heat that always felt so good. Always a perfect fit. _But_ …

He needed to temper this nearly overpowering desire. They needed to take their time and measure their actions. He stroked her face…

"I'm so happy to be with you baby…I love you _so_ much," He confessed in a whisper. The sincerity and passion in his voice warmed her heart. He moved his head—closely regarding the woman in his arms. The fierceness of his blue eyes washed over the softness of her brown.

"I'm so in love with you, Rick. There's no place I'd rather be than here with you right now," the truth of her words came out soft with a tinge of both sadness and hopefulness.

"I feel like we've been given this incredible opportunity," he held her face, "In the midst of everything going on in our world, we have an opportunity to…just be here. Nobody tryin' to kill us…eat us…or hurt us," he chuckled, his lips on top of hers.

"I know. It's crazy," she kissed under his chin and then lowered to his neck. She began to drag her mouth along his neck. She dropped her head nibbling at his chest before opening her mouth and sucking his right nipple. She rolled his left between her fingers.

"It's crazy…" she said in a throaty and seductive whisper.

"Oh…Michonne, baby," he moaned and sucked her neck as she pleasured him. His hands began to feverishly roam her body before he slowed then stopped abruptly. She slipped her hand down his body until finding his erect penis. She began to stroke the length. The pre cum adding lubrication to the task.

"Baby…" he took a deep breath and backed out of her stroke, and out of her embrace. She opened her eyes to see his face as he slowly took in the sight of her nude body before him.

"What's wrong?" She asked both confused and concerned, "Are you worried about what we talked about earlier? She's on birth control remember?" She shared while attempting to discern his look, "we don't have to worry about it." He didn't speak as he closed the distance between them again. He warily ran his fingers down her torso and looked into her face.

"It's just weird. Maybe weird is the wrong word…It's just, I'm looking at your body and its beautiful...maybe the most beautiful site I've ever seen. And it just feels strange." Suddenly feeling self-conscious she backed away from his touch and used her right arm to cover her breast. Awkwardness settled between them. Not letting her back away from him too much further he stepped closer to her and again reached out to touch her...

"I don't mean it the way it sounded," he attempted to explain, "It's just that touching your body is different. I was used to know every mark, every bruise, every blemish that you had...have. When I ran my fingers over your skin it was an extension of my own. And I guess," He nervously chuckled, "this kinda feels like the first time again. A body I don't know… When I told you that it felt like I would be cheating on you with you it sounded funny. But…now it doesn't feel quite as funny." He stopped. With the exception of the light from the clock which sat on the nightstand and the minimal moonlight that had found its way through the closed curtains, the room was dark. Even through the virtual darkness he could see that his words had an odd effect on her. She was smiling at his words.

"What are you smiling at?" He gave her side eyed grin.

She stepped closer to him and ran her fingers slowly down his chiseled chest.

"I was thinking the same thing," she laughed. I wasn't sure how to say it, but you said what I was thinking." She looked down at him and rubbed her fingers up and down, "This body is totally different from the one I'm used to. There are no scars and you're…it's…not nearly as lean. Muscular, but not in the same way…if that makes any sense…" He nodded, understanding exactly what she was saying.

"…I wasn't considering it cheating on you with you," she tilted her head and smirked at him, "but it is an odd feeling like you said."

He moved his hands up to her face. They embraced. The intimacy gave way to desire. They ran their hands up each other's backs. The anticipation and their internal heat had caused them both to sweat. Her breasts were pressed against his chest. The awkwardness dissipated and was replaced with urgency. The throbbing between her legs intensified.

"Do you remember our first time?" he asked, breathily into her ear.

"It's not something I'll ever forget," she huskily replied.

"All the time that we spent exploring each other's bodies…"

"Yeah."

"I'd like to do that tonight. I wanna explore this body and take my time…If that's okay," he gently kissed her lips.

"Yes," she whispered barely audible, "yeah, I'd like that."

He began to kiss her neck. The kiss became a slow and devilishly torturous suck.

"Rick…" she moaned. He slowly backed her towards the bed and laid her down. He got on top of her and his hand began the slow roam of the body that lay beneath him. They spent an incalculable amount of time exploring the others body throughout the night. The exploration started with their hands and then with their mouths. They first touched then kissed the areas on the bodies where the scars should be.

Michonne always took special care with the part of Rick's chest that had been marred with a gunshot. Rick always took special care with her upper leg; where the gunshot wound he once callously grabbed was located. _It was always a reminder of the time and care that Hershel took stitching her wound; one of the many memories that sealed their bond_. The wounds and scars would never exist on these bodies, but they existed in their minds eye. So they took special care.

The scars and wounds that for now only existed in their recent memory were a part of them. They gingerly acquainted themselves with the bodies before them. Their bodies were more than just something to be callously admired. Their bodies were their history; it told the story of their journey. Every scar, every wound, every mark was a story that was written as well as any bestselling novel. It was an awareness that neither realized until now.

"You taste so damn good," he told her as he watched her face from between her legs.

"Ahhh…" She could only moan in response as she slowly writhed in pleasure. He continued to attentively taste her, lick her, and suckle on the juices that flowed from her.

"Rick..." she mumbled as he made his way back up to her mouth. He began to kiss her lips she opened her mouth for him. She could taste her juices; the juices of this body.

"Michonne…I love you so much baby," he confessed, "thank you for staying with me and for loving me." He held his painfully erect penis and slowly guided it into her very wet and awaiting folds.

"Uh…baby," she moaned as he entered her, "I love you too..." She adjusted her body, moving her hips to better accommodate him. He buried his head into her neck as they began to move in sync. She bent her legs – he took ahold of them. He pushed deeper inside.

"Rick…Oh God…" she moaned as she gripped him tighter, feeling the dampness on his back. She held tight as their slow roll became hotter…feverish.

Their sexual desire for each other was beyond compare. They both wanted and needed sex. But tonight...tonight would be about relishing in the feel of these different bodies; discovering each other. Tonight would be about connecting on a much deeper level than these fleshy vessels could allow. He looked deeper into her lustful brown eyes and saw into his woman - his love. Their souls were connected. They never lost eye contact as the intimacy they were sharing transcended the physical realm.

o-o-o-o

The day before had been one of discovery. A doctor who forgot about his promise to 'first do no harm,' had turned their world upside down. Six unwilling participants in an unsanctioned experiment had realized their happiest dreams and stared down their darkest fears. All six had come out on the other side of the dark tunnel they'd been thrown in. The couple lying in bed together had found their way to each other. They'd found their way to each other in two very different worlds.

A scant amount of light found its way into their room. She was on her stomach - her arm splayed across his bare chest and her right leg snuggled between his. He was on his back with his face partially covered by her long newly twisted locs – his hand underneath her with his fingers resting at the entry to her wetness. They breathed deep in their well-earned slumber. Both lightly snoring. It had been a long night of love making.

He moved – unconsciously adjusting to his sore muscles. His stirring brought her to consciousness.

"Ugh…" she muttered, keeping her hand on his body while he reached across her, "I'm _so_ sleepy."

"Me too," he took ahold of her, "you wore me out, _Michelle_ ," he chuckled with his eyes still closed. She playfully wiggled to get out of his arms.

"That's not funny Chief Grimes…you can only call me that during…" she relaxed her body and slid her arms around him, "that was our agreement remember?" she nibbled on his neck.

"I remember everything. I'd like to give us both more to remember Ma'am," he rubbed his hands down her back, landing on her rear. He squeezed gently.

"Rick, you know we don't have time. Rosita's probably gonna be banging on our door any second," she giggled and coughed as he continued his salacious assault on her.

 _bzzz bzzz bzzz_

The vibrating cell phone stalled his movements.

"Be good and grab your phone, baby." She gently whacked his butt as he reached over her and grabbed the phone. He swiped, unlocking the phone, and then tapped the speaker button…

"Mornin,'" he faintly shouted to the phone while attempting to continue snuggling with his woman. There was no name attached to the number, but he was sure it was one of his fellow survivors. They had decided not to add each other's names and numbers into their phones - _No trail or record,_ Rick had told them _. Let's not complicate their lives any more than we already have._

"Good morning, Sunshine," Carol gleefully greeted.

"Good morning, Carol," Michonne not so cheerfully greeted, "How are you…how are the girls?"

"Hey Michonne. I'm good and they're fine. We're all actually in the little kitchen alcove thing they have here. They have a pretty good continental breakfast."

"Ya'll are already up…and ready?" Rick inquired with surprise.

"Yes. I don't think Daryl actually sleeps, so he's been awake and moving around all morning. He took Rosita and Maggie to the drug store to pick up what Maggie called 'her daddy's magic hangover remedy cure,' and she wanted to get the stationery. I'm gonna get goin' so I can pick up Sophia…"

"You're leaving _now_?" Rick asked.

"Yes. I already talked to Sophia and told her I'd be there soon."

"Uh…okay," he mumbled, "we'll be ready soon…can you let Maggie and Rosita know?"

"Sure."

"Wait, what time are you gonna be back at the motel?" Rick asked.

"I don't know. We could plan to meet back here at around one o'clock…"

"Sounds good. Enjoy brunch okay."

"I will, thanks."

They got out of bed. He kept his hands on her—attempting to put his fingers inside of her while she playfully smacked them away. Once they entered the small shower, her will power was gone. Against the wall wet of the shower, with her leg held by his powerful grasp, he sucked her neck and slipped his erect penis into her slick folds.

o-o-o-o-o

Carol sat on the couch in her 'doubles' living room and stared at family pictures she was holding. This would be the last time that she'd see these people. These friends. These family members. This was her time to take a mental snapshot of their face. Dedicate their smiles, their frowns, their silliness, their growth, their interactions, their everything - into her brain. She ran her fingers over the pictures.

"Alright mom. I'm ready," Sophia informed her as she cheerfully bopped into the room. Carol looked up and smiled at the thirteen year old with long auburn hair and an overabundance of freckles on her face.

"So mom, who's this guy? Is he your _n_ _d_?" She dragged out the word boyfriend while giggling.

"No Sophia. I told you he's just a friend," she informed the young woman.

"Mom, it's okay if you have a boyfriend. I mean…dad has a girlfriend. Matter fact…I'm glad you picked me up when you did because she was making breakfast. I told you how horrible her cooking is."

She looked up from tying her shoes and winked, "You have just as much of a right to be happy as dad does. I mean…you're pretty awesome," she said rather nonchalantly.

Carol sat in awe of this incredible human being standing in front of her. The young woman was wise beyond her years. As proud as she felt, it was a feeling that seemed unearned. _Do I even have the right to be proud of you? I didn't actually get you to where you are right now. She did. She got you here. I was the one that didn't hold on to you tight enough. I was the one that let go. Stop. Don't do that Carol. You can't go there. Live in the moment. Live in this moment. There are not a lot of hours left…_

" o," Sophia said waving her hands in the air, "Mom…you have _totally_ been spacing out lately. Have you been smokin' weed?"

"Sophia…of course not," she grimaced at the young woman.

The grimace became a smile which became a giggle. They both began laughing.

"Honestly mom, who's this Daryl? You've never mentioned him before."

"I told you that he's a mechanic. We have a few mutual friends and we've all been…um, working on a case related to the shelter and…" Sophia interrupted the lie that Carol had already told once before.

"I get it mom…he's just a friend. But that doesn't explain why you invited him to have brunch with us. We never go to brunch with anybody else. I mean…it's cool…I don't mind or anything," she gave her mom a side eye grin as she finished with her shoes.

"I appreciate your generosity Sophia." She said sarcastically to the grinning girl as she stood and walked towards the kitchen.

"I invited him because he doesn't really have much family and he's a pretty nice guy. A little quiet and moody, but a good guy."

"If he's a nice guy, then maybe he's boyfriend material," Sophia shouted towards the kitchen.

"He's a nice guy, but just because he's a nice guy doesn't mean he's _**the**_ guy. Some people are meant to be friends, and some people are meant to be more," she paused while walking back into the living room, "he's someone that I hope will remain my friend for a very long time."

Those were probably the truest words she'd spoken to Sophia since landing in this world. Daryl was special. Their love for each other was special. Their love was pure. At one time she thought that they could move out of the friend zone and into something else – but that time had long since passed. She was grateful for what they never did. _Crossing that line may have ruined us._ She tried not to give much thought to what would or could happen to these two people that were being left behind _. I'll address it in the letter._

 _Ding-Dong_

They turned towards the door.

"I'll get it mom. I'm sure it's your _**friend**_ ," she smirked as she went to open the door.

o-o-o-o

" _Rick, you know white people_ _ **are**_ _allowed in black churches," she chided him once they pulled up to the large church._

" _You're not very funny, Michonne," he raised an eyebrow and then brushed her hand with his._

" _Goin' into a church is not really somethin' I'm up to. Plus…I can stay out here, make some calls, return some text messages, and get some sleep…" he responded honestly. He needed to follow up with Jenner, return a call to Shane, and check in with his assistant who always worked on Sunday's. He had decided not to have an actual conversation with Lori, Carl, or his parents, but he did want to send them all text messages._

"… _Didn't get much sleep last night, so a nap will be good," he leaned into the passenger seat and kissed her._

" _Okay, so that's way more than enough information…" Rosita acerbically bit from the backseat._

" _Plus, we're in public. You need to stop with any kinda kissin'. There's too many folks walkin' around," Maggie freely admonished._

" _You're both right," Michonne agreed looking in her man's eyes, "No public displays, Chief," she flirtatiously informed him. He moved closer, moved her hair to the side and moved his mouth to her ear, "But we're still on for some more when we get back to the room right?" He whispered. She grinned._

" _Oh. My. God. We can hear you. Let's just go before we don't get a seat."_

"Amen." The congregation repeated after the bishop. The man of God with the large open mouthed smile, looked at the ministers sitting in the pulpit just behind him, and then stretched his arms out towards the congregation.

The row that Michonne, Rosita, and Maggie sat in was full. Both the bottom floor and the balcony area were at capacity. The large sanctuary was surprisingly cool given the amount of people currently in attendance. They spotted Sasha when they walked in. She was seated five rows in front of them.

" _The best thing about church is that there is a lot of hugging. Since she just met me a couple of days ago, approaching her shouldn't seem strange. And luckily, hugging people you barely know, even if they're complete strangers, is pretty normal in AME churches," Michonne whispered to them once they took their seat._

Maggie glanced around the church. Her experience with church had been complicated to say the least. A brief vision of what they did in Gabriel's church flashed through her mind. She shook her head, dismissing the memory.

Her father had gravitated to church after he gave up the bottle. Church and the bible were his saving grace. They tethered him to both sanity and sobriety. But, for her, it had become like a prison. He demanded her attendance. She rebelled because she felt stifled by all the rules.

The church building in Alexandria had become not much more than a place for battle planning, strategy meetings, and lamenting loss. There wasn't much worship.

But this chapel, this place, was completely different. This _was_ a place of worship - a welcoming place of hope. No matter their differences, these hundreds of individuals were connected in their singular belief. They believed in a god that she wasn't sure still existed. They all had something that she wasn't sure that she'd never have again. For the first time since landing in this world, she felt something. It was something that she hadn't felt in years… _Envy_.

Maggie's eyes swept across the massive room; she slowly regarded the attendees in the crowded chapel. Every variation of brown was represented in the church – from vanilla to the deepest darkest chocolate. The room was filled with all ages – from newborn to well over ninety. All expressing their love of each other and the lord. The choir had performed four different songs before the minister even took the pulpit. Then they performed two more before the minister ended the service.

The churchgoers were happy and renewed in their faith. The room was filled with hope. There was an almost tangible sense of love. Everyone stood and began greeting their brethren. Two elderly men waited on either side of the large arched ornamental mahogany doors. Just over two hours after the service began the doors were reopened. The men shook the hands of the exiting parishioner's.

Sasha was smiling and speaking with an older couple and a tall, bald, cocoa colored man who had his hand on her waist. The four were immersed in casual conversation. At the other end of the row, speaking with a tall, thin, fair skinned woman and a man who looked like a teenager, was Tyreese. _How did we not see him before?_ Maggie nudged Rosita and Michonne. They looked at her, and then turned their heads to follow her line of site. There was Tyreese. He was as large as they remembered; his smile bright as he spoke to the woman and the young man.

The three strangers to both this church and this world inconspicuously stared at the interactions occurring a few rows ahead of them.

"You guys ready?" Michonne asked her companions. Neither woman had moved nor responded.

"Rosita," Michonne whispered to the friend standing closest to her, "we need to go say something before they leave."

"You're right," she looked away from Sasha and towards her companions, "I'm ready," she responded.

"Maggie, you ready?"

"Yeah," she nodded.

The three fighters and survivors very cautiously and nervously began to make their way towards Sasha. They were stopped and very politely accosted with hugs and well wishes by welcoming parishioners. They continued their stride until they were mere feet from her...

"… _Miss Vivian did a great job with the kids. They were so good. Did you see little Marcus, he…"_

"Um, excuse me," Michonne interrupted once they reached the casual conversation, "You're Miss Williams, right?"

Sasha turned to face the woman she'd just recently met; recollection gradually making its way to her face and demeanor.

"Oh. Miss Onette," she smiled, "it's nice to see you again." She stepped away from the man beside her and took Michonne into her embrace. The hug was quick. She backed up and smiled.

"It's nice to see you. I've never seen you here before," Sasha very innocently remarked.

"I've been here before. It's been a long time since my last visit though." She had frequented a different AME church in Atlanta in the past. She had not been a regular church attendee for years. Her shared memory with 'Michonne' confirmed that this was still the case. She did, however, have family members and some friends from her youth that she knew were faithful church goers. She wasn't exactly sure which church they all belonged to, and was hoping against hope that she wouldn't run into anyone she knew. She glanced around…

"Well, I'm glad you're here...How's that cute little boy of yours?"

"He's good. Thank you. Actually, I have to tell you that you've made an indelible mark on my son. He's been talking about how nice Miss Williams is since we left the library."

"Awe, that's nice to hear. He's a sweet little boy. And so smart."

"Thank you."

"Oh, I'm sorry…where are my manners?" she looked at those standing next to her, and motioned, "these are my parents, Sarah and David Williams. And this is my fiancé Tyler." She then turned and motioned to the other end of the row, "And that big guy over there is my brother Tyreese and his wife Alana." They all glanced over and smiled. Tyreese had not noticed his sister's attempt at an informal introduction as he continued his lively conversation.

"Nice to meet you," she reached out and shook the hands of the three smiling people. Maggie and Rosita were quietly smiling.

"Oh, let me introduce you to my friends," Michonne turned to the women. Their poker faces belying their emotions.

"This is Rosita—and this is Maggie," they both smiled into the beautiful face of a woman that they both considered a friend. They hugged her in succession.

There was something about these women. Sasha felt a little flushed. She patted her forehead as she smiled at them. They looked at her strangely; searching her face. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but it was _something_. She was both uncomfortable and comfortable in their presence. Her stomach began to roil. She patted her head again. She watched them as they greeted her parents and her fiancé. She felt connected to these strangers; it was an uneasy connectivity.

"It was really nice meeting you all," Rosita smiled and then took Sasha's hand, "and it's really nice to meet the teacher that little Andre talked about so much." Rosita kept eye contact with the curly haired beauty. _Michonne was right about the lack of recognition in your eyes. But I can see something. I think maybe there_ _ **is**_ _a part of you that knows me…that knows us. I really did appreciate your friendship. Thank you._

"Thank you. It was a pleasure meeting you all as well," Sasha smiled and eased her hand out of the pretty Latina woman's hand. It was bizarre, but there was _something_.

They walked out of the church and towards the car where Rick was undoubtedly sleeping.

"How are you guys feeling? Did you get what you needed?" Michonne asked them both. Rosita had been so insistent on seeing Sasha. So insistent that she needed to make an amends that was only possible by looking into the face of this Sasha double.

They came to a stop before crossing the street. Rosita faced them…

"I did," she smiled with a renewed light in her eyes, "it wasn't much and I know it doesn't make much sense. It was what I needed. I know it wasn't really Sasha…but it was. It was her, in a way…and I apologized." She took their hands. They both knew what she meant. She had apologized and received the semblance of closure that she needed.

* * *

A/N: Please let me know what you think. Thank you. Blessings...


	12. Chapter 12 - Home

**Chapter 12 - Home**

 _It's a battle we have to win; a war that we have to win._ The words played over and over in Rick's mind as he waited outside the church for the ladies. He glanced around the parking lot as parishioners began to amble out of the large beautifully decorated doors. This was a sight that he'd never see again. Folks dressed in their Sunday's best giving praise to a lord that he was pretty sure didn't exist in his world.

Among the growing group of people, he took note a little boy running towards a car that he figured must belong to his family. Rick looked around to make sure that the young child had parents nearby. Sure enough, an impeccably dressed dark skinned man, and a just as impeccably dressed woman with long hair and a form fitting pink suit, walked hurriedly to catch their child.

His eyes became transfixed on the child. The innocence of the unjaded human being playing a game of keep away with his parents; not that his parents were trying to play. It was _something_. Would Judith or his yet to be born child ever know that kind of carefree existence? Was it right to bring a child into that world?

 _What a beautiful little boy_. He chuckled, knowing that if the little boy's father saw him staring at his son he'd probably end up in a major altercation. It didn't stop him from smiling. _Our little boy will be beautiful like you. He has a right to a chance at a life. Michonne and I will protect him with everything._ He was lost in thoughts when the car doors opened.

Michonne got into the passenger seat, as Rosita and Maggie entered the backseat through their respective doors.

"Hi, baby," Michonne said, leaning over to kiss him. Their lips lingered for a moment before she pulled her head back and lightly pinched his chin, "did you stay here the whole time?"

"Yeah—it was peaceful," he said before starting the ignition.

"How was church?" He asked looking in the rearview mirror.

"It was nice," Rosita responded, glancing at the two women. Michonne turned toward the back seat and smiled. Maggie reached over to her friend and squeezed her hand.

"It was so nice to see Sasha—she was beautiful," Maggie said as a wistful smile graced her face.

No one talked much on the drive back to the motel. All of the car's occupants were mulling over more than they would've been able to express in words. Casual conversation seemed…inappropriate somehow.

Seeing the bustling streets of Atlanta for the last time was sobering. It wasn't just Atlanta that they'd never again. It would be the last time that they would ever see a city full of life. Pedestrians stood on corners waiting for lights to change so that they could go on their way. Their complete ignorance that other worlds existed – that true ugliness existed – was a bliss that the six car occupant didn't have the luxury of.

They were mere hours away from going to a place where stop lights, banking facilities, and the blaring sirens of emergency vehicles no longer existed. So, without speaking, they stared out of the windows as they rolled past the busy residents meandering throughout the vibrant city. Michonne turned on the radio to break the loud silence in the car.

When Rick and the three ladies arrived back at the motel, Darryl and Carol had not yet returned. They walked silently to their respective rooms.

 _x-x-x-x-x_

"You're a real dolt," Carol slapped her hand on his arm.

"What the hell's a dote?"

"Not a dote…a _dolt_ ," she laughed watching his face contort in further confusion, "a real dodo bird." She clarified, making fun of her favorite tracker after he made a comment about his smoked possum meat being better than the beef he was currently eating.

"Whatever," he mumbled with his mouth full of potatoes, "I could go outside and hit somethin' with my car that's better than this."

"Don't talk with your mouth full you grump," she laughed. There were certain things that she'd learned about the morose motorcycle rider through their time together. The first and most important thing about Daryl Dixon is that he will never admit that he likes something. The rule to understanding him was simple; a single grunt or complaint was his way of being content and maybe even happy.

They enjoyed their time together at the restaurant. The regular rigmarole of normal life had nearly been forgotten. Brunch on Sunday's and families debating about which deserts are the best, was no longer a part of their lives. The women attempting not to over eat because they're watching their figure was almost comical to Daryl and Carol. She smiled and smacked Daryl's arm when he gave her that dry smile of his.

Sophia bopped around and chatted with the friends she'd run into once they parked and entered the popular eatery.

"Mom, I'm gonna go talk to my friends for a while," she'd said while giggling and running off.

Once the young woman was off being happy and untroubled with the other likeminded teens, the air around them changed. In the quiet, without youthful distraction, they were no longer the surly mechanic and anxious mother. They were two survivors on their way to war.

"I don't have nothin' in this world," he fished out the words that had been floating around since they'd arrived in this alternate universe, "Ain't got much…hell, don't got nothin' in the other world either…but it's still a helluva lot more than I got in this one. It's somethin."

He was anything but a poet, but there was poetry in his words. She knew what he was saying.

"You got me. And you have the others. You have family," she looked into the eyes that he often hid, "It's more than something."

People in Alexandria, at the Kingdom and those four people back at the motel, were her family too. A self imposed isolation could never last when your family needs you. Her resolve to leave this world came from that truth; her family needed her. It was more than something.

"Yeah, whatever," he mumbled.

 _x-x-x-x-x_

After exiting the highway in Decatur, Rick pulled into the parking lot of a small drugstore. Maggie ran into the store and purchased two packs of stationery and a box of pens.

"We have to let them know that we didn't mean them any harm," Maggie was insistent.

"We will," Rick agreed.

The question still remained, what do you tell them? How do you explain what happened? How do you explain the things that you did to their bodies _, and with their bodies_? There was really no real way to know the right thing to say or the right things to do.

"Have you decided what you're going to say," asked Michonne.

Rick looked at her. The crinkle between his eyes - on a face that was not really his – answered her question. He was unsure of what to write same as her.

"I think we need to be honest. We don't know how much they'll know, but we need to be honest," he said.

"You're right," she agreed.

Carol and Daryl arrived back at their temporary lodging shortly after the others. Maggie handed them the writing material.

A task that should've been simple was from it. All their plans to possibly go out and enjoy their last day on this earth were thwarted. Discussion and self-reflection ate away their time. The letters were so much more than letters. They were more than just words on paper. These letters would forever change the lives of people who had unwittingly been invaded.

After finishing the letters, everyone found their way back to Rick and Michonne's room. Their need to be together in one space was bigger than their desire to be separate. They talked, laughed a little, and watched an old Humphrey Bogart movie as the sun began to set.

"I can't believe it's almost time to go," Rosita reflected, "as much as I know that this is the right thing to do, it's still hard."

It was a truth that they could all agree on and therefore no real reason to comment. They all nodded their agreement.

"Jenner better know what the hell he's doin'," grunted Daryl. He had remained silent, for the most part, since returning from his time with Carol and Sophia. Like the others, he made his peace with the new world and he made his peace with the old. He said his goodbye to Merle when he died the first time, and there was no reason to revisit that.

"I hope he does too," agreed Maggie. Her situation was someone different than the others. She had a new desire; one that had not existed before seeing this worlds Glenn at the restaurant. She knew this was the right thing to do. Without question. And she would fight the war, and she would survive the war, and she would bring hers and Glenn's baby into the world. Her sadness was not completely gone, but it was now put to the side to do what she knew she needed to do.

"Michonne ambled around the room as they all chatted. She too knew this was the right thing, it didn't, however, make it any easier to leave.

"You okay baby?" Rick asked as he approached her. She was in her own reverie. He touched her arm.

"I know we've already spoken about this, and I know you've already answered the question, but I have to ask again," he looked into her big brown eyes, "are you sure?"

She touched his arm and smiled, "I'm sure," she whispered, not allowing the emotion to overtake her; not allowing her tears to overtake her solace. _I'm sure._

 _x-x-x-x_

A repeat of the night before, Rick and Rosita rode with Michonne in her car. Carol and Maggie rode with Daryl in his car. They stopped at a post office box along the way. It was a small thing. It was a simple and mundane task. But as Rick dropped everyone's letter into the blue metal box, there was in an inaudible sigh between them all; an imperceptible shutter. The lingering question that they would never get an answer to; was it the right thing to do?

They discussed, very briefly, some of the things that they put in their individual letters. But the letters as a whole were secrets that only the authors knew.

They parked and walked slowly towards the entry door. Rick interlaced his fingers with Michonne's. Carol gave Daryl a hug and then put her arms around his waist as they walked.

Rosita walked up to Maggie, "You ready, Mama," she gave just the faintest of smiles to her friend.

"Yeah, I'm ready," they took each other's hands and strolled towards a place that held their uncertain future.

"I wish I'd had the time to get a good massage and maybe a pedicure," Rosita said.

Maggie laughed, "I wish I'd had a chance to go to my favorite candy shop. Daddy used to take us to it every summer when we were kids. When I got older I started going. I've even taken some of my students there— or I should say that _this_ Maggie has taken her students there. She chuckled at her misstep in identifying exactly who did what and when.

Carol laughed, not being left out of the wishes and missed opportunities, "I'm gonna miss my hairdresser."

That garnered her a laugh from everyone as they walked. Even Daryl chuckled.

"I'll hook you up if you want—after we kill Negan's ass," Rosita added, matter-of-factly with the sardonic laugh that was truly her own.

"I'm going to hold you to that," Carol reached over and squeezed Rosita's arm as they heard a blaring horn in the distance.

"Well, I'm gonna miss burgers and fries from the drive thru window—any drive thru window," Michonne laughed. Rick kissed her cheek as they walked.

"Oh my god, so am I. And chocolate milkshakes," Maggie squealed.

"I had me a cold brew, so I ain't got no complaints," Daryl added before they reached the door.

Michonne turned to a quiet Rick, "What about you," she inquired, "what silly thing are you gonna miss?" They had come to a stop just outside the entry to the building. He looked at his woman and then his friends, "I've got everythin' I need."

 _x-x-x-x_

They stood silently for a moment before Rick knocked on the door. Heeled shoes clanking on the tiled floor grew louder, closer. Keys jangled before the door swung open. Jacqui Stone greeted them. She was a pleasant woman, with a very welcoming smile, but that did not soften the combination of grimaces and furrowed brows that the six travelers hurled her way.

Once they were in the room they spoke briefly with Dr. Jenner. He assured them that there were no assurances. He'd be flying blind just as they would.

"I believe this is will work," was the bottom line buried under all the technical jargon and scientific rhetoric.

"Again, all I can say is I'm sorry—it was never my intent to harm anyone," Jenner expounded.

"I want to second that," Jacqui added, "we just wanted to do something good." She walked towards Carol as she spoke. Daryl's posture changed instantly; his defenses were up. He stepped between the apologetic woman and his friend.

Jacqui looked at the angry tracker. She'd once thought he was not much better than his racist brother. This was not the same man that she met so long ago.

"I know that maybe you'll never forgive me or Edwin, but I truly wish you the best…" she smiled at the woman whose double in this world had been her own special project. She wouldn't use that word out loud, but that's what Carol Peletier had been for her. She looked past the snarl of the mechanic and into Carol's face.

"…Long gone is the timid and abused woman that I used to know. I see you and I see all the possibilities that exist in the world. Maybe it doesn't matter to you—I guess it shouldn't, but I'm gonna continue to do everything I can for women who've been beat down—you've proven that no one has to remain a victim. The domestic violence center exists because in a different world, a world that I'm no longer a part of, I met you." It was all she wanted to say; all that she needed to say. Carol had been her inspiration to start the center.

The look on Carol's face did not change. It wasn't an acceptance of the apology, it wasn't anger either. It was somewhere in the middle. Jacqui quickly turned around, not waiting for a response that she was pretty sure wasn't going to come, and walked back towards her colleague.

"It's time."

They walked into the room that was reminiscent of something out of the Lost in Space television show. It actually could've belonged to any television show or movie where the scientist believes that has a right to play god. Where whatever truth they are in search of, overrules what's legal, ethical, or both. The chamber was surrounded by windows; a glass cage.

Jacqui and Jenner stood on the outside of the room and watched the six survivors reticently walk into the sterile environment. They stood by a white metal table. Both a large and small computer sat on the table.

Rick, always the leader, walked ahead of them. The room was empty except for a small metal table sitting off to the side, and a large apparatus affixed to the ceiling.

"Feel like a damn rat in a cage," Daryl grunted. His observation, though not meant to be funny, made them all smile.

"Yeah," Maggie added, "reminds me of going to the science museum when I was in grade school. They took a moment to look around the empty room.

Rick walked up to Michonne, "I love you," he told her unprompted.

She turned to him, "I love too," she said.

He stepped closer, "I just wanted to make sure that I told you—because I don't know if we'll survive this," he looked around the room before continuing…

"…and if we do survive getting back, I don't know if we'll survive the war. So, I just wanted to make sure that you know how I feel—for you to take that information and store it—use it when you need to. I hope it can maybe give you some strength to make it through this," he kissed her lips gently…

"…Because we're gonna come out of this, and when we do, we're gonna have two babies to teach."

She rubbed her fingers over his smooth face. It was a face that she was honestly going to miss. Rick had no desire to shave, which made sense given all their other concerns. _But it's such a handsome face._ She lightly caressed his chin.

The love she felt for this man was beyond words. She leaned up and kissed his lips again. He took her into his embrace and passionately kissed his partner, his lover, the mother of his children, his wife.

"Okay," the voice of Jenner came booming through the speakers in the sterile lab, "It's time."

 _x-x-x-x_

There was a chill. It wasn't necessarily temperature related, but a chill went through them. Fear, angst, trepidation, happiness, anger, was probably the true cause of their chills. It was the unknown.

They took a moment to look into the faces of their friends, their family. Rick was too overcome with emotion to speak.

Carol looked around the room…her heart swelled as she gazed at _them_ …

"I don't know if we'll make it back in time to fight, or if we'll make it back at all. We probably won't all survive even if we do make it back. But—I just want you guys to know that you mean the world to me…"

Her eyes began to well up as she looked at her friends, "...we've lost so many people, and I hate the idea of losing anymore. But, I'm proud...proud as hell to fight with you guys. I'm proud to stand with you. No matter what happens. I truly do love you all. You're the loves of my life."

She raised her head, seeing through blurry eyes, that all of her fellow weary travelers had tears in their eyes as well. Rick walked up to her and took her hand. Michonne joined Rick and took his other hand. Maggie took Michonne's hand while Daryl took her other. Rosita wiped her tears and joined her friends. She interlaced her fingers with Daryl and Carol - the circle was complete.

No one spoke. They looked into each other's faces - not knowing if they would make it home or if they'd survive the war. It didn't matter because this was right, and they just knew...

Dr. Jenner watched them through the window. Jacqui stood beside him. He glanced over at her - reached forward to the control panel, and pushed the green button. The room began to shake as a bright light consumed the chamber. The two observers shielded their eyes as a swirling orange and yellow liquid like substance broke through the light in the room. There was another tremor. After thirty seconds the light was gone—the six people left behind were lying on the floor.

They looked down at the six blips on the screen bounce around for a moment before they disappeared.

"I hope they make it back," Jacqui said, looking at the screen that was now dark.

"I do too," Jenner said.

The End

* * *

Thank you for going on this journey with me. Blessings...


	13. Chapter 13 - Epilogue

**A/N:** This was totally and completely unplanned. I felt that the mysterious ending fit the Twilight Zone-esque feel of the story. But, some requests for an epilogue were so sweet and kind...how could I not do one :-) Please enjoy...

* * *

 **Epilogue**

Days went by without any word from Rick or the others. They had met up at the abandoned warehouse in the middle of nowhere. Search parties from each community panned out across the countryside looking for the six survivors – to no avail. Hope was almost gone when Jesus and a few other members from the Hilltop searched the previously investigated vacant warehouse. They found them. The team of six was lying on the dusty tile covered floor of the once bustling business. They were disoriented but otherwise unharmed.

Questions abounded.

" _Where were you?" What happened? How'd you get here? Was it The Saviors? etc. etc. etc._

They only had a small glimmer of hope that Jenner would get them home. The possibility of the over enthused doctor getting them home seemed almost as implausible as him being able to yank them out of their universe in the first place – leaving their actual bodies floating in 'space' until he could reunite them. They had not held out a sincere amount of hope. Therefore, they never entertained nor discussed an explanation as to where they had been.

Rick took the lead giving the only answer that he could…

" _We got lost for a while, but now we're back."_

x-x-x

The war was over.

Brutal greed kept their boots on the throats of so many.

Their reign, and that of their leader, was now over.

 **A tyrant will always find a pretext for his tyranny...**

The grieving leader of the survivors had done some unspeakable things before the war ended. Morgan was gone, and with him, the secrets of his most recent atrocities could be forgotten.

It didn't matter what his once sworn enemies did – even if they helped him - he was intent on destroying them all. He had lost so much. He could justify his actions?

 **...and it is useless for the innocent to try by reasoning to get justice, when the oppressor intends to be unjust.**

But he couldn't truly justify another tyrannical reign if forgiveness was a possibility.

He could not allow the loss of his son, or his friends, to be that pretext. He was not a tyrant. They hadn't fought this war and suffered unimaginable losses just trade one tyrant for another.

In the end, Carl's words had led to mercy. And that mercy led to a new beginning.

His sons hope and his woman's strength would be his guiding light. They both had a resolve towards peace; not allowing the actions of their once enemies to direct their actions moving forward. Something good had to come from it all.

Rick made the pronouncement that they could all live separately, while also living as one large inter-connected community. The words resonated with many.

x-x-x

Ezekiel, Jerry, and Henry waited at the gates for her. She walked towards large house which served as the epicenter of the Hilltop community. Rick and Michonne strode towards her holding hands. Rosita saw her from the once makeshift jail of the Saviors. She was working with others to prepare the ground for planting. She joined them on the road. Maggie and Daryl exited the house and walked towards their friends.

Moments later they all stood together. This was the first time they had all been together, just the six of them, since returning.

"I'm going to miss you guys. But they lost so many people at the Kingdom. I think that's where I need to be—to help them rebuild," Carol informed them. She looked towards the gate where Ezekiel and the others were waiting on horses for her. She turned back to face her family. The awkward silence was filled with the sounds of an active and newly invigorated community.

Carol stayed out of the dissension between her extended family until she couldn't.

"…I'll come back often here to the Hilltop and to Alexandria. And I'll definitely be back when the babies are born," she continued with a smile; it was her real smile. Everyone remained silent. The noises around them were providing the appropriate distracting soundtrack for all the new developments in their lives.

The closeness the six survivors shared during their otherworldly voyage became fractured once they were immersed in the war. Disagreements on tactical strategies had led to a break between Rick and Daryl; culminating with a standoff between Rick and Maggie.

"I really didn't think that we would all make it back to this world, let alone survive the war—though I hoped against hope that we would," Carol said with a soft smile, looking into the faces of people who were doing their best not to look at each other…

She directed her words to Daryl and Maggie, "The decision is made…" she continued "…and if we are truly trying to build a world of fairness, then Rick is right. Keeping that maniacal psychopath locked up sends a signal to everyone. This world belongs to us all—not just the strong."

"That man is the reason that that my child will never know his father," Maggie snapped, moving her glare from Carol to Rick and then back to Carol. Rick looked at her, his expression as soft as he could make it.

Carol walked over to Maggie and took her hand, and then brought her into an embrace before letting go.

"That's not true," the silver haired fighter stepped closer to her young friend; "Your baby will know Glenn. Because we'll keep his memory alive—and if he ever wonders why we didn't kill the man that killed his dad, he'll get the opportunity to know about the kind of man his dad was. How good and truly decent he was—his belief that this is the kinda people that we are—that we've gotta be."

She could tell, as could the others, that the widow was not yet ready to hear this.

Maggie pulled away, spinning on her heels, and marched back towards the house. They watched the unofficially elected leader of the Hilltop quickly increase her distance from them.

Carol directed her attention to Daryl, tilted her head, and gave him a large closed mouth smile, "Take care of her," she warmly instructed, reaching for his hand. He allowed a quick loving squeeze before letting go.

"Yeah," he grumbled before turning to catch up with Maggie.

She hugged Rick and whispered, "She's not ready to hear you yet—but she will, just give it some time." Rick simply nodded. Carol was covertly his most ruthless operative, always very quietly illuminating obstacles. She was without question an enigma wrapped up in a riddle; the angel that sat on his left shoulder while also being the devil that sat on his right. Her decision to live permanently at the Kingdom would be a hard pill to swallow.

Carol hugged Michonne and Rosita in succession before strolling towards the gates where the men and boy were waiting for her. It didn't take long for a romantic relationship to bloom between her and Ezekiel. It took only a month before they were unquestionably the king and queen of The Kingdom.

The contention that existed between Rick and his extended family lasted for a while. But when it was all said and done, they were a family. Splintered though they may have become after returning from their alternate universe adventure; they were still a family.

Months of deafening silence eventually gave way to a peaceful truce. Their arrogant prisoner _did_ serve as a reminder that a real civilization was possible.

x-x-x-x

"Rick…" she moaned.

He held onto her for dear life. She held onto him. It had been twenty minutes of his heated and fervent pounding into her. His back was drenched with perspiration; his face alcoved into the crux of her neck. This aggressive lovemaking was far different from his regular sexual behavior. Their lovemaking had always involved lots of kissing and gentle touches; even when they got wild with each other. This was different.

"Baby…" she whispered softly, holding him close. She could feel the warm liquid rolling down her skin and onto the bed; a mix of his tears and his sweat.

She kissed his ear, his cheek, and his bearded jaw as he kept his face hidden and couched between her neck and slender shoulder. She could feel it. He couldn't get close enough. He couldn't be deep enough. He needed her – craved her. It was far beyond a need for sex. He needed to connect with her.

"It's okay baby—I got you." She moved one hand up and ran it through his sweat soaked hair.

"I love you, Rick. I'm here," she assured him, ignoring her growing physical pain.

Her body was still in repair mode from all the recent distress it had endured. They had not made love since returning home; weeks since they'd had sex with their own bodies. Her body ached, her mind was floating, and her heart was broken, but this was not about lust.

She could tell - his body was present but his mind and his spirit weren't. She smoothed his hair and kissed his cheek again.

"I love you, Rick. I'm here," she professed again as tears began to roll down her face and onto the pillow.

He increased his speed; each stroke hitting her deepest core.

"Uhhh," she moaned, smacking the mattress with hand and then grasping the fitted sheet.

He ignored his own physical pain. His hand was wrapped from the cut he'd sustained during his battle. He was still recovering from the gunshot wound and his body was severely bruised. The pain in his heart and spirit was much deeper – much more painful.

They lost Carl. Their beautiful child was gone. He had an opportunity to say goodbye, but Carl was gone.

 _He's gone. My beautiful son is gone._

The need for this connection was much deeper than anything sexual. This was one thing that she could give him. One thing that only she could give him; a release that only she could offer. So, she held him tight while he burrowed himself into her. She would not allow him to run from his pain or find some just as equally unhealthy way to deal with it.

"I got you," she told him again. His gyrations were untamed and his breathing uncontrolled. _I'm not letting you leave us._

"Rick, she whispered, "look at me my love…"

He opened his eyes. They were red-rimmed and swollen with tears; his eyes a cloudy darkened blue with undulated passion and sadness.

 _You're trying to not let yourself go. You don't want to enjoy this._ She could see his attempt to disconnect, "Stay with me okay—I'm right here—together—cum with me—together," she stammered, "I'm here with you, baby."

He leaned down and kissed her. Opening their mouths, the salty taste of tears and sweat mixed with the sweetness of the fruit they'd had earlier, tantalized their senses.

His stroke increased. He kept his hooded eyes on hers – enshrouded in hers.

She knew he was almost there. She held on, even as she tightened around him, so they could climax together.

"It's okay—let go," she quietly panted, "I'm here with you."

His grip around her back was unrelenting. She was enveloped in his hold. He was buried deep inside of her, moving with purposeful detachment as he clutched her body.

"Uuhhh…" he grunted as his body shook.

She fisted his hair as they simultaneously reached the pinnacle of euphoria.

"Riiiiiccckkk…" she shouted her one word of ecstasy.

She kissed his cheek and put her hands on his face; passionately kissing his lips...

"I love you," was all he could say before allowing himself to breakdown in her arms. He could breakdown because she would be there with whatever tools were necessary to repair him.

It took minutes before their breathing became regular and a few extra minutes before their hearts, again, beat in sync.

"I didn't hurt you did I?" He asked mournfully, coming back to the present and realizing that he had been rougher with her than he ever had.

She ran her hands through his hair.

"No, my love. You didn't hurt me," she kissed his scruffy neck.

"Thank you for loving me—for accepting me—I'm gonna try to be the man that you—and that—that Carl believes—believed—I am," he said before easing into a sleep that he'd earned, but hadn't allowed himself to have.

"I know baby," she assured him, "It's going to be okay— _we_ are going to be okay—we _are_ going to get through this.

x-x-x-x-x

" _I'm with Rick Grimes_ ," Rosita affirmed as the war escalated, and reaffirmed those words when the war ended.

Those were words that she never could have said without the clarity that she gained on their unplanned inter-planetary journey. She'd had time to reflect, to lay her anger and fear to the side; to become the person that her grandmother would be proud of.

Alexandria had suffered more damage than the other communities. When everything was over, Rosita led the group that returned to Alexandria to clear away the walkers and to begin the rebuilding of their home.

On the bright and early morning when she and the group of Alexandrians she'd assembled showed up at the gates of Alexandria, they were met with over one hundred people from the Kingdom, the Saviors, the Hilltop and Oceanside.

All the residents worked together to put Alexandria back together.

Scrounging and scavenging from the surrounding towns for proper building materials was what took the most amount of time. The book that the mysterious Georgie have given to them really was a key to the future. When the sun finally set on the fifth month following Negan's imprisonment, their homes were rebuilt, the crops were beginning to grow, and an infrastructure that did not exist before now existed.

x-x-x-x

Sidiq performed an ultrasound on Michonne days after the Saviors surrendered. Rick held her hand as the soundwaves manifested through the machine with…

"umph umph umph," sounds filling the small sterile trailer - echoing off the walls.

"That's our baby," she said gripping his hand tighter. He used his other hand to wipe his tears.

"Yeah," he mumbled.

"Everything looks good," their newly appointed obstetrician informed them; looking at the screen, "Very strong heart," he continued.

It would be a gross understatement to say that Michonne's pregnancy was high risk. The physical assault in her first trimester by the large female traitor, the lack of regular sustenance, extreme emotional anguish, and then throw in fibroids for good measure; it was most certainly a very high risk pregnancy.

Their new community doctor put her on immediate bed rest. Her normal propensity to fight and not give into sitting down when work needed to be done was gone. Rick was prepared to insist that she focus only on herself and leave repairs to everyone else, but he didn't have to. She wanted this baby and was committed to doing whatever she had to do to ensure the baby's viability.

Michonne spent the next three months in virtual confinement at the Hilltop. Once she was given the clearance to go home, having made it to her second trimester, Rick drove her home to Alexandria. Walking back into the house that they once shared with both Carl and Judith was...sobering.

Her bed rest continued as their home was rebuilt around her.

x-x-x

Word was sent to Carol at the beginning of Michonne's labor. She waited outside along with Ezekiel, Rosita, Tara, and the rest of the Alexandrian community. Daryl waited inside of the house. He was just outside of the door holding a three-month-old Hershel.

Inside of the delivery room Rick held her right hand, kissing her lips, cheeks and forehead as she panted through a very rough labor. Maggie stroked her left hand, giving words of encouragement – just as Michonne had done for her three months earlier.

After five hours of a difficult labor, baby boy Grimes was born. He came into the world kicking and screaming. A host of family had remained outside of the small Alexandria house that had been designated as the infirmary/clinic/hospital until Maggie shared the news with everyone. Uproarious applause and cheers erupted.

That was exactly one year ago.

The entire community was a buzz in preparation of Richie's one year birthday party. The celebration was much more than a birthday; it was the celebration of life, the celebration of peace, and a celebration of family hood.

"Mommy," Judith shouted, "Gracie smells poopy."

"Okay honey, I'll be there in a little while," she shouted back.

Rick and Michonne kept Gracie. It was, for lack of a better expression, a no nonsense adoption. Making Gracie their own made sense. Everyone agreed that she should be a part of the Grimes family. There would be no shortage of help while they were at the Hilltop, and no shortage of help once they returned to Alexandria.

But, for Rick it was much more than just giving the little girl a readymade family. There was a fair amount of guilt that consumed him in regards to Gracie. It made sense to him that should questions ever come up about her biological father, that he should be the one to answer them. Michonne agreed, insisting however, that Gracie not be used by Rick as some sort of penance for his actions during the war.

The little girl was a reminder of both the good and bad things that happened in the war; actions that led to the New World.

" _Do you think we should tell her about the truth about what happened to her father?" Rick asked Michonne the same question in various ways._

" _Not all truths are worth knowing. There's no benefit for her to know about what happened to him. The only thing she ever needs to know is that we love her, will always take care of her, and will always protect her," Michonne replied._

"Judith, honey, come here," she watch from the kitchen as her young daughter came running.

"Don't run Judith, you'll fall and hurt yourself," she admonished with her motherly smile.

"Sorry mommy," the young frizzy haired blonde said, "Gracie is stinky."

Michonne smiled, "Where is daddy?"

The young girl shrugged her shoulders, "I dunno."

Almost as if he knew he was being summoned, Rick strolled into the kitchen, kissing his wife on the cheek.

"Hey you," she greeted.

"Hey…"

"Where is your son? You're supposed to be getting him ready," she raised an eyebrow and smiled.

"He's in his crib. Look—Richie and I just needed to get mommy's opinion on his outfit," he slanted his head to the side and gave her his most innocent smile.

Her eyes drifted down to his hands. He held two little boy outfits. She couldn't stifle her laugh.

"You're leading five communities into a symbiotic society, and you can't pick out an outfit for your son?" she mocked while laughing.

"Daddy's funny," Judith laughed; not exactly knowing what her mother was laughing at, but certain that her father was the butt of the joke.

"See, now you have my oldest daughter laughing at me," he walked closer to her, stroking her face before kissing her on the lips.

"Daddy," the persistent blonde tugged on his pants leg, "Gracie is stinky." He broke the kiss with his wife, handed the outfits to her, and lifted his daughter into his arms.

"Is that right?" he tickled her tummy.

"Daddy, no," she squirmed.

"Where's your sister?"

"The bedroom," she giggled and squirmed.

"I got this," Michonne said, "You dress Richie."

He nodded, placing Judith back on the floor.

"And I'd go with this one," she said handing him the dark blue pants set with a matching baseball cap.

"Daryl got this for him. I think he'll get a kick out of seeing Richie in it."

"Uncle Daryl—Uncle Daryl," the young ass-kicker, as she was still affectionately referred to by the aforementioned uncle, began jumping up and down, "Yay, wanna see Uncle Daryl."

Michonne and Rick couldn't help but laugh.

"I know sweetie," Michonne said, "He'll be here soon, so let's go and get you and your sister ready while daddy get Richie dressed."

"Kay mommy," she said running out of the kitchen.

"No running young lady."

"Kay mommy."

They watched her stop for a moment before bounding up the stairs.

"That's your daughter," she laughed.

He pulled her into his arms, taking a moment to look into her wide brown eyes, "Thank you," he said with a small touch of sadness.

"For what?" She smiled and softly touched his cheek.

"For loving me...For being an incredible mom...For being an amazing wife and partner...for everything," his eyes were their darkest blue as redness in his face rose, "For coming back. I know it wasn't an easy decision to make."

He quickly enveloped her in his arms, kissing her gently, and then with more fervor.

"I love you so much," she mumbled into his mouth before breaking the kiss, "It wasn't easy leaving _him_ , but coming back with you—to our kids—was actually one of smartest things I've ever done."

" _Mommy_ ," Judith's voice wafted down the stairs.

She kissed his lips again, "I've been summoned," she giggled.

"Yeah—I'm summoning you too," he smirked and glanced down at his visible arousal. She smacked his arm.

"You are too much."

"Don't blame me—that's _all_ you."

They laughed

"Later, Mr. Grimes," she smiled.

"I'm gonna hold you to that Mrs. Grimes," he said, smacking her on the rear as they walked up the stairs.

x-x-x

"Do y'all ever wonder how they're doing? What they thought of our letters…" Maggie asked the small group gathered in front of the Grimes house; out of earshot from the many party goers ambling around the community.

They hadn't spoken, collectively, about their alternates in over a year.

"I'd like to believe that maybe we gave them something that they needed. Or at least I like to believe we did," Carol said before distractedly biting into her piece of chocolate cake.

"I hope you're right," Michonne added, keeping her eyes on her daughters as they jumped in the grass. They all followed her line of sight and smiled watching the little girls.

"I hope so too," Maggie added, bouncing a tired Hershel on her hip.

"I just hope that they didn't keep any of our memories—it just seems—I don't know—wrong I guess," Rosita added, bringing the conversation into a more introspectively subdued realm.

" _Michonne_ …" they all turned towards the approaching Enid. She hurriedly strode up to the group with the birthday boy in her arms. Rick walked in her direction.

"Da da," the little boy said reaching for his father. Michonne came up behind him.

"He needs a diaper change," the young woman, turned babysitter extraordinaire, informed them, "the chest is empty. I just needed to know where you keep the rest of them."

"Don't worry," Rick said as he took his son, "I got it."

"You sure?" Michonne asked kissing her son on the temple.

"Ma ma," Richie said grinning and showcasing the two teeth that broke through his swollen gums one week before his birthday. He grabbed his mom's cheek with his chubby caramel colored fingers; his hazel eyes sparkling.

"I'm sure," Rick said, giving his wife's lips a quick kiss.

"C'mon son", he said, holding the baby tightly; he ran his hands through the long, curly, dark brown hair, "Daddy's on diaper duty."

"I love you," he whispered into Michonne's ear before strolling away. He entered the house; ascending the stairs and going into the bedroom that he shared with his wife and son. The crib was on the opposite side of the room. He sat baby Richie on the bed.

"Where'd your mama put your diapers?" He asked the wide eyed little Grimes man while rummaging through the small dresser at the foot of the crib.

"Ma ma," his son called clapping his hands.

"Yep, it's time to get you potty trained kiddo," Rick chuckled as he pulled the pull-ups from the drawer.

"No, no, no pot pot da da," Richie indignantly responded.

"You're as stubborn as your mother," he laughed, "but don't tell her I said that—pretty sure she'll say you get it from me," _I'm sure she's right about that,_ he smiled _._

"So, where were we?" He asked, leaning over his son with the diaper in his hand.

"Ca...Dre."

"That's right son," he kissed the little nose and smiled into eyes that were the hazel version of his own, "You're certainly as smart as your mama."

"Ca, da da," he clapped his hands.

"Yes—your big brother's Carl and Andre. I think we left off with the story of Carl taking off his diaper and chasing the neighbor's dog with it," he laughed, "Your sisters got a kick outta that story too. "

"Jud, Ce Ce," the youngest Grimes blubbered.

"Yes sweetheart, Judith and Gracie," Rick clarified for his son. Richie laughed and clapped his hands.

He paused a moment, and then smiled, "Let me tell you about the time your brother got into the bucket of paint next to the back door. I think your mama has a similar story about your brother Andre." Richie giggled as his father tickled him and told him another silly story about his big brother Carl.

"Once you get older, I'll tell you the story of how your mama and your big brother became best friends."

* * *

A/N: Again, thank you so much for taking this journey with me. I hope that this conclusion has done both the characters and my story justice. Please let me know what you think.

And now, back to editing Backroom **sigh**


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